


A Very Private Matter

by Bethann, Minniemoggie, Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: AU of Legendary Friendship and Desperate Hours AUs [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Spanking, illustrated story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are bandits in Ithlilien who do not respect that Faramir is in the middle of a personal crisis after finding out that Denethor didn't really father him, and Legolas and Gimli try to help in their inimitable way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : This story is a collaboration between myself, Bethann, and Minniemoggie. It is its own AU in and of itself, using the Legolas and Gimli from Beth and MinnieMoggie's series "A Legendary Friendship," and an AU version of Faramir from Susana's Desperate Hours series. 
> 
> The Legendary Friendship series is AU from canon in that Tolkien says that elves reach the age of consent at age 50, but for the purpose of these stories it is around 1,000. So, around the time of the Ring War, Legolas is around 800 years old and had joined the quest without permission from his father and king. That means that even though he is chronologically older than most of the members of the fellowship, in terms of stage of life he is one of the youngest. The Legendary Friendship series can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/10592 
> 
>  
> 
> The Desperate Hours ("DH)" AU, or DH AU, is AU from canon in that Faramir is secretly the illegitimate son of Aragorn. The desperate Hours Series can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/8893
> 
> We hope that "A Very Private Matter" is entertaining. However these stories are a world all their own and should not be considered a part of either Susana's or Minnie and Beth's separate universes. For instance if you read a story by Susana that she has written on her own, her Legolas and Gimli should not be thought of as Minnie and Beth's take on the same characters. The authors just wanted to see what would happen if we mixed up `our' unique versions of these characters. As it turned out it was a lot of fun! We hope you all enjoy it as much as the three of us did!

Early evening in Ithilien, Faramir POV

The White Company rode single file through the wooded hills of northern Ithilien. Their horses' breath rose in white puffs over the snow-dusted landscape. The third rider in the column guided his mount to the side at the top of the hill, pausing to survey the land. His chestnut mare shifted, pawing at the ground restlessly.

Prince Faramir patted his horse's neck, thinking to himself, 'Poor Blythe. You're restive today because I am troubled. I thank you for carrying me so faithfully despite my abstraction. We shall soon reach our camp, and I'll have Herion give you a good rub-down.'

Blythe shook her dark mane, and stood steadier. Faramir gazed out over the trees, the air thickening with fine white flakes against the encroaching twilight. His eyes narrowed at a nearly imperceptible ripple in the evergreens, which after a few moments resolved itself into a fine horse carrying an elven prince and a dwarven lord. Faramir's lips twitched into a smile despite his preoccupation. There was only one such elf and one such dwarf in all of Arda who would choose to travel thusly in one another's company, and they were true friends of Gondor.

"Well met, Prince Legolas, Lord Gimli." Faramir called out in welcome, not bothering to raise his voice. Faramir knew that Legolas could hear the soft swoosh of an owl take flight in a windstorm.

Legolas and then Gimli raised a hand in welcome. Faramir rejoined the column, as Legolas gently guided Arod past Captain Beregrond and several other rangers, falling into pace beside Faramir on Blythe.

"Well-met at last, my friend." Legolas said, reaching out to clasp Faramir's arm in the greeting of warriors. Then Faramir clasped Gimli's arm, as Legolas noted with a frustrated smile, "You are more than a league further north than we had expected to find you."

"Ah, yes," Faramir explained with an apologetic smile, "Ranger Kasim's grandfather fell ill, and his village was only a half-day detour to the North. It seemed a worthwhile change in plans. We did intercept several smugglers, and," Faramir's face stilled, and he took a deep breath, "Kasim was able to bid his grandfather good bye, and remain with his family to grieve."

"Poor Ranger Kasim," Legolas sympathized. Kasim was one of the young rangers who would dance and engage in contests of skill when the Prince of Ithilien and his men bided in the White City, or traveled with the King and his comrades.

"Aye," Captain Beregrond agreed, "And it is fortuitous that you have found us, for we were one man understrength, returning."

Faramir chuckled quietly, "Now it could be said," he teased with his eyes gleaming, "that we are forty-some men too strong, as all know that Legolas and Gimli can take down nearly four score enemies in a single battle."

A respectful laugh ran through the line of rangers. It was Gimli, his black eyes twinkling above his snow-dusted beard, who answered, "Well, I for one would like to avoid any such excitement on this trip. Perhaps we should review your maps tonight, Prince Faramir. To optimize our path to the White City for detection of bandits and other such miscreants, while avoiding any threat large enough to require greater forces."

Faramir nodded his concurrence, blushing to think that he had not yet thought to review their route again that night. Such was well worth doing, especially with the benefit of the additional information Legolas and Gimli brought from the south. Faramir could feel Captain Beregrond's concerned look. Faramir knew that he hadn't been himself, not since making a deathbed visit to Kasim's grandfather, Kasimir. Faramir hadn't remembered the old man, but Kasimir was a former servant of the old Lord Steward Ecthelion of Gondor, the father of Denethor. And the secret which Kasimir had imparted to Faramir had shaken the Steward to his core.

"Faramir?" Legolas asked, a moment or two after they'd reached their planned campsite. Faramir blushed again. Preoccupied by his own concerns, he hadn't even noticed their arrival at the ranger station. Faramir belatedly nodded to Beregrond to make camp, and then to Legolas in both thanks and apology.

Less than an hour later, Faramir sat in his tent with Gimli and Legolas, poring over maps of Ithilien.

"There is good cover, here," Faramir pointed to a spot near one of the rivulets running to meet the Anduin, "We have often found bandits encamped there, particularly when winter comes early."

"Perhaps we should split the column before approaching that area, sending some riders out to the sides?" Legolas suggested, clarifying, "In order to get a better estimate of numbers, if there are bandits present."

"Hmm." Gimli observed. "That seems a sound plan, my lad. Maybe even send a scout ahead. But NOT just you, Legolas."

Faramir hid another smile at Legolas' expression, which was almost a pout. Warriors of Legolas' skill and heroism did not, as a habit, pout, but Faramir had known his brother Boromir to pull quite a sullen face, and even his new King, when Aragorn was told that Elessar the King did not get to take the same risks that Aragorn the ranger had been accustomed to.

Gimli patted the elven Prince on the shoulder, kindly offering, "Perhaps yourself and one of Faramir's men could go a head to take a look before we get there." Legolas nodded his assent to that, as Faramir's attention again wandered, to the extent that he missed Gimli's next question. Twice, apparently.

Faramir sighed and shook his head apologetically, "I beg your pardon, Lord Gimli. I know that area quite well, and it would be my pleasure to accompany Prince Legolas in scouting ahead.” Legolas, Faramir noted, seemed quite satisfied with that plan. Faramir and the elven prince had spent a great deal of time together, bonding over a mutual love of archery and the wildest of forests, and also planning for the settlement of Greenwood elves Legolas was to found in Ithilien. Gimli seemed less sanguine, and Faramir himself knew that a plan which involved sending just himself and Legolas ahead was not a good plan. At the very least, they should be accompanied by guards. But who would be best to accompany them, Faramir was not quite sure. He paused for a moment, feeling keenly the loss of so many of his rangers during and just before the Battle of the Pelennor.

The few experienced Ithilien rangers who had survived that engagement, Faramir had posted with the newly-made Captain Anborn, who held Faramir’s old command at Henneth Annun, or with the small, over-worked garrison covering the area near the river Poros. The rangers who accompanied Faramir now were a mixed set composed of three different sub-groups of soldiers. Some were the Lossarnach kin of loyal Beregrond, who had come at his call to fill the depleted Ithilien ranks. Others were Faramir’s uncle’s men, sailors who had been willing to give up the sea in exchange for land in Ithilien and service to their Prince’s nephew, Ithilien’s new ruler. Those whom Faramir knew the best were men of Ithilien who had come of age since the end of the war, who had run relays and occasionally filled-in at Henneth Annun, when the garrison there had been drawn down past the bare minimum in order to staff forays further afield.

Several of the last hailed from the area near the falls where Faramir’s company proposed to ride, and they would perhaps be the best to accompany Faramir and Legolas on those expeditions. However, that would leave the main body of the patrol without anyone who was truly familiar with the area, which was unacceptable. Properly, Faramir and Legolas, as the two most experienced woodsmen and also the two highest ranking members of the party, should not both be sent to scout ahead at the same time. But Faramir did not feel comfortable sending Legolas ahead with only the younger Ithilien men for company. They knew the forest, yes, and they were brave men, and true. But they didn’t know Legolas, and they would hesitate to sit on the elven Prince, if Legolas in his youthful enthusiasm became determined to deal with enemies right there and then, and dissuading him became necessary.

Again Faramir felt the aching loss of his long-time guards and companions, Ranger Damrod, Corporal Mablung, and Sergeant Menohtar. Any of them he could have sent to scout ahead with Prince Legolas with perfect confidence. They had never hesitated to yank their Captain and Lord away from dangerous situations, when Faramir himself had been younger. Faramir didn't feel a need to mention any of this, though. Gimli and Legolas knew the rangers well enough to have some inkling, in any case.

“Perhaps,” Faramir suggested, “Sabarion and Cadwain could accompany us on our scouting forays, as guards and additional sets of eyes.” Sabarion and Cadwain had been handpicked by Faramir’s uncle Imrahil, and they frequently served as Faramir’s personal guards.

Gimli and Legolas seemed to agree with that plan, and moved on to talk of plans for Ithilien, and the issues that Aragorn planned to tackle during the winter council sessions. Faramir's attention wandered again, again considering how to tell his King that he was not the son of Denethor, and therefore had no right to his title as Steward, or to ruling the principality of Ithilien.

Faramir's attention returned to the moment when Gimli cleared his throat. Faramir blinked in startlement, then apologized again for his distraction.

"No harm done, Faramir." Gimli told him with brusque kindness, before Gimli and Legolas exchanged another one of those looks. Faramir wasn't sure whether to be amused or concerned when Legolas, who had apparently been nominated to bring the subject up, asked "Whatever is the matter, Faramir? I've never known you to be less than fascinated by the boring minutiae...er, important details, of governing Gondor. But tonight, you're miles away."

Faramir hesitated. Then Faramir considered that Legolas and Gimli sat by courtesy on Gondor's council, and were personal friends of the King's, and had always been kind to him. "I have...learned something. Something about my own family which would have little implication beyond my kin, were I not Steward and Prince. As I am..." Faramir sighed and ran a hand through his red-gold hair, "As I am, the telling of this story may cause a crisis for the country. Aragorn will learn of it soon enough, when we reach the city."

Trusting in Legolas' and Gimli's discretion, Faramir began, "You may have heard the first part of this story already. My mother, the lady Finduilas, was sorely tried by the birth of my brother. Boromir was, from the first, the perfect son and heir, golden and spirited and kind. My, ah, father, the late Lord Steward Denethor, did not want a second child. He feared for the life of his beloved wife. Lord Denethor's father, the old Lord Steward Ecthelion, disagreed and pressured his son and heir, and his wife, to continue to try to have more children. No matter what the cost to Finduilas."

Faramir paused a moment, reflecting that despite Denethor's faults as a father, he had been, in many ways, a devoted and loving husband. Faramir swallowed, summoning his courage, and then continued, "In time, Lady Finduilas bore a second son, me. Five years later, she...her life ended." Faramir paused again, remembering his mother's long, hard-fought struggle against ill health. If it hadn't been for him, Finduilas might have lived to see Boromir come of age, at the least.

Taking a deep breath, Faramir began again, "All of that was known to me. When I joined Kasim in his bed-side vigil for his dying grandfather Kasimir, I learned that… it was not the whole story. That, of those living, only Kasimir knew the truth behind my parentage, so he felt that he had no choice but to confess such to me. Apparently, Lord Steward Ecthelion refused to accept that his heir would not have a spare heir of his own. So the old Steward ordered Kasimir to drug the wine of one of his Captains, deciding that if Denethor would not sire a second son, then that Captain of his choice - a northerner named Thorongil- would. Then my mother laid with that Captain Thorongil, and there was, apparently, no doubt, in her mind, or in the mind of the old Lord Steward Ecthelion, or in his servant Kasimir's mind, that I am the son of Captain Thorongil, and not Lord Denethor."

Faramir's gaze had been distant as he told the story, but Legolas' gasp at the very end brought him back to the moment. "My apologies if I have shocked you, Legolas." Faramir offered kindly, fighting a blush of embarrassment. The Steward wasn't sure whether the story, with some of its racy elements, had even been appropriate to tell to someone of Legolas' age - when it was appropriate to treat Legolas as an adult versus an adolescent continued to confuse the Steward at times. He tried to follow Gimli's lead or the King's, but Gimli did not look upset. Well, at least not at Faramir. He seemed concerned over Legolas' response, though. Faramir didn't have any further time to consider the matter, as Beregrond needed his attention to defuse an argument between several of the Dol Amroth men and one of the younger rangers.

Early evening in Ithilien, Legolas POV

Easing himself slightly in the saddle, Legolas looked through the snow to where he could see the line of rangers approaching.

“Is it Faramir?” Gimli asked from behind him.

“Aye, though what he is doing this far north I do not know.” He scanned the riders and then added, “there are no obvious injuries so I assume all is well. Shall we join them?”

“Well since that is what we came here for it seems the sensible thing to do lad.”

Within moments they were riding through the ranks of rangers, nodding and smiling at the greetings but Legolas did not bring Arod to a halt until he came level with Faramir. Once they had exchanged the traditional warriors arm clasp he repeated his earlier comment on how far north the patrol was. Faramir’s explanation made both Legolas and Gimli draw in a sharp breath for Kasim was a favourite with them both.

“Poor Ranger Kasim” Legolas sympathised, his growing knowledge of and interaction with mortal kind had brought him into contact with death on a far more regular basis than the long years he had fought the shadow in his father’s realm. Elves were not immune from death of course, his own family had suffered from it, but still the shortness of men’s lives and the inevitability of death by one means or another shocked him.

“Ye said ye had a run in with bandits?” Gimli put in, “Where was that? The laddie and I saw signs of movement by a large group of men, west of here when we rode down along the, what name did ye give that river Lamb?”  
“The River Onodló, you probably know it better as the Entwash, Faramir. There were clear signs of men crossing the Nindalf. The ground there, as you know, is very marshy, and the tracks were easy enough for anyone to follow. I wonder if they had something to do with the smugglers you intercepted. The group was moving with some speed, it was my intent to follow them but my cautious friend here said we would do better to meet up with you and your patrol first.”

Gimli growled something too quietly for even Faramir to hear making Legolas flush slightly and add piously “which of course was the right thing to do.”

There was some banter then between Captain Beregrond, Faramir, and Gimli but Legolas remained silent even when Gimli suggested that it would be wise to review the maps once they were settled for the night and then they could see where the smugglers and bandits had been sighted and from that deduce whether they were in some way linked. He sensed that something else was on Faramir’s mind other than the sighting of smugglers. He tipped his head to one side and observed his friend with concerned eyes as Gimli and Beregrond exchanged news. Faramir looked distracted, withdrawn and so unaware of what was going on around him that Legolas felt it necessary to call out to him when they reached what Beregrond pronounced was the planned campsite.

The rangers set up camp with their usual efficiency, leaving Legolas to care for Arod and then for Faramir’s mare Blythe, freeing Faramir’s squire Herion to go and do other things. Legolas then crossed to where Gimli stood supervising the building of the fire pit.  
“Gimli”

“Aye laddie,” seeing Legolas wished to speak to him privately the dwarf left the fire and walked across the camp.

“I am concerned over Faramir; he does not seem himself, as if he has something on his mind.”

“Aye well some of us do have things on our minds Lamb unlike you flighty empty headed elves …” He stopped his teasing then when he noticed Legolas’ concern.

“Ye are worried?”

“I am, and I believe that Captain Beregrond is as well. I noticed him watching Faramir closely, do you think he has been badly affected by the death of Kasimir?”

Having thought that over the dwarf frowned, “It could be, although he said he had not known the old man all that well. Faramir is a serious lad and he has suffered a great deal, we will just have to keep an eye on him maybe he will speak of what is on his mind.”

“And if he does not perhaps you will be able to persuade him to!” Legolas snickered, leaping out of the way before Gimli could swat his rear end for him.  
As it happened Gimli did not have to use any form of persuasion, for once they had made plans to scout ahead to see if the bandits were still in the area had been agreed. Not without some divergence of opinion of just who and how that should be done Legolas recalled, really his mortal friends sometimes treated him as if he were still a child; Faramir had finally admitted his distraction and said.

"I have...learned something. Something about my own family which would have little implication beyond my kin, were I not Steward and Prince. As I am..." He had sighed and run a hand through his red-gold hair, "As I am, the telling of this story may cause a crisis for the country. Aragorn will learn of it soon enough, when we reach the city."

“Then ye had best tell us about it lad” Gimli encouraged, pressing a goblet of wine into Faramir’s hand and settling himself beside the brazier with a cup of his own in his hands.  
Legolas listened in growing discomfort to what Faramir had to say, the conduct of humans was sometimes quite shocking to him, even now. The idea that anyone would force a son or daughter to put their health or even more terrible their life in danger, for the sake of the succession of a royal or powerful family dynasty was abhorrent to elven kind, elflings were cherished but were only ever conceived out of love. It hurt to think of Faramir having to grow up without his naneth because of Ecthelion’s determination to have a ‘spare heir,’ and for him then to be blamed for Findulias death it was just plain wrong.

Legolas knew from what Boromir had spoken of when they travelled together on the quest, that while he had loved his brother, his father, Denethor had always taken against Faramir, and held him in some way responsible for the death of his wife. Denethor had not treated his younger son in a kindly fashion, always holding him up as being in some way inferior or lacking. Boromir, in sharp contrast, had always insisted his beloved younger brother was in fact a skilled and fearless warrior and a great deal more intelligent than he was. He had feared for his brother and one of the things that had driven the Captain General of Gondor was a desire to be home with Faramir to ensure that he was not being unfairly treated by their father.

Legolas watched his friend closely, seeing how affected he was and how it hurt him still to have been spurned by his father, but it was the revelation that came at first haltingly then in a sudden rush, that took his breath away momentarily.

Ecthelion’s machinations were far worse than Legolas could even have imagined. The whole sordid affair, the deception, and manipulation were the stuff of nightmares even while giving some insight into Denethor’s inability to bond with his youngest son. How could the old steward have coldly looked through his captains and chosen amongst them for the one he felt would most likely produce a strong intelligent child, and what would have happened if Findulias had given birth to a daughter? Would the experiment have been repeated? It did not bear thinking of. No wonder Denethor’s wife had given up her life so soon afterwards, perhaps she feared she would be forced into further degradation for the sake of the lords of Gondor.  
“And the poor Captain had no idea what was happening, ye say, he was drugged.” Gimli looked as shocked and appalled as he felt Legolas decided.  
Faramir nodded

“What a shock for you my friend, but no blame attaches to you, you know, and I am certain Estel will tell you the same thing.” Legolas asserted. “There may be some slight awkwardness but I do not see Estel making a great thing of something that you had no knowledge of and were certainly in no position to do anything about. It seems to me from what you have told us here that both your mother and this captain were as much victims of your grandfather’s designs as you. And recall if the man was a captain in Ecthelion’s service he was sure to be of some birth and of good stock, your grandfather would not have chosen someone he did not think would sire a strong son, did Kasimir tell you anything about him?”

“He did, he said he was a great hero in Gondor, indeed I recognised the name as soon as I heard it. I had read about his exploits and his closeness to and loyalty to my grandsire as a child.”

“What was his name, lad if ye don’t mind telling us?” Gimli asked gently.

“Thorongil, Captain Thorongil.”

Legolas did not hear the next words for he sat in dumb surprise, Thorongil, the name Aragorn had used when he served the court of Gondor all those years ago. If what Kasimir had told Faramir was true, then Faramir was Aragorn’s son!

Legolas turned concerned eyes towards his dwarven friend he needed, desperately needed to speak with Gimli before he said anything to Faramir and as fate would have it, Faramir was called away to deal with some disturbance, leaving elf and dwarf together.

“Well Lamb that was some revelation” Gimli started only to be stopped by Legolas replying, “More so than you can possibly know elevellon.”

“Ye don’t believe that Aragorn will take against the lad because of it surely? He is far too great a man for that sort of pettiness.”

Legolas glanced out into the night where he could see Faramir and Beregrond in conversation with two of the White Company.

Now that he knew the connection between the two men he named as friends he saw far more than before, there was a likeness, not overt, but it was there. The way they stood and held their heads, the quiet assurance in command, the fact was that Faramir had more of the look of the Dúnedain of old than he did of Denethor or Echthelion. “You do not fully appreciate the situation my friend, any more than Faramir does I fear”

“And I never will if ye do not tell me.” Gimli growled  
Legolas gave his friend a rueful grin, “True, Gimli the truth is I recognised the name of the man that Kasimir claimed was Faramir’s father. I know this man; I have known him for many years. He is a good man an honourable man, but how would any of us react to such news, that he had been betrayed and misused by someone he himself looked up to. That his honour had been besmirched, that he had lain with a woman who was not his wife even if it was without his knowledge. I do not know how he will take this news, how would any of us take it?”

“I have never heard ye speak of this Thorongil.”

“Indeed you have Gimli, you have been with me when we have talked together we have fought together all three of us.”

“Ye are talking in riddles” the dwarf muttered then looked up into Legolas’s face, he followed Legolas’ own eyes as they watched Faramir, “Nay lad, ye cannot mean …”

“But I do Gimli; Thorongil was the name Estel went by when he rode to war with Thengel in Rohan and when he was taken on as a captain in Ecthelion’s service. Estel says little of that time but I know there was some friction between him and Denethor because Ecthelion treated Estel like a son.”

“That is not the way any good man would treat his son!” Gimli countered heatedly.

“I do not dispute that, but the question I must ask now is do I tell Faramir who this Thorongil really is?”

“Well now lamb that is quite a question.” The dwarf tugged on his beard as they both watched Faramir, “Aragorn’s son well, well, well …”


	2. Chapter 2

Night at the White Company’s Camp, Gimli POV

Gimli took a deep draw on his pipe and held his breath for several long moments before slowly exhaling the fragrant cloud of smoke. He found some relief in the act of tightly holding and then bit-by-bit releasing the warm smoke from his lungs. It acted as a way of hiding his growing discomfort, for the dwarf was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable despite the fact that he was doing all in his power to appear thoughtful and calm in front of the others. The truth was he was very concerned and for more than one reason. First of all he was concerned for Faramir, who spoke blankly of the betrayal of the man he thought to be his father by his own mother and name grandfather and also of the fact that this information the man had only just found out a few hours ago also put in jeopardy his rights as steward of Gondor. What a shock the poor lad had endured and yet Faramir told the story as if it were someone else’s tale instead of his own. He must have been devastated by such news and yet he seemed to be almost bored as he relayed the story to his friends.

If Faramir’s reaction to such a shocking revelation was less than Gimli might have expected, Legolas’ certainly made up for it, for the dwarf also observed the face of his beloved charge as they listened to the whole sordid tale and he was worried over the elf as well. In Gimli’s opinion the young elf had lost enough of the innocence that should be common to youngsters by his involvement in the trials of war at an age when he was not yet even considered an adult by his own folk. The child had seen untold horrors and suffered terrible loss already, and Gimli did not like to think of him being exposed to such a disturbing tale of folks who would misuse what the Valar had clearly designed to be a demonstration of love between a bonded couple for their own political agenda no matter that it was to serve the ‘good of the many.’ It was clear that Legolas was shocked by the story and by the end of it, looked very distressed. So much so that even Faramir noticed and flushed, apologizing for the explicit nature of the tale and glancing sideways at Gimli as if he was not quite sure if the dwarf would be irritated with him for talking of such things.

Gimli was quick to reassure Faramir on that account, for the man had enough on his plate without worrying over having offended his friends. He reached out to place a comforting hand on Faramir’s shoulder causing the man to offer him a thin smile of thanks, but when Gimli glanced toward Legolas, who he thought would have rallied by now and offered his sympathy as well, his concern grew even more. Legolas had gone positively white to the point that the dwarf wondered if perhaps he had become suddenly ill. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what was amiss when Legolas caught his eye and widened his own ever so slightly-a sure sign that the elf wished to speak to Gimli alone. Gimli cast around for an excuse to call Legolas away when Faramir solved the problem by getting up on his own accord to settle a dispute that had broken out among the rangers.

“Well, Lamb, that was some revelation,” Gimli began only to be interrupted by Legolas, who did indeed have a real need to speak to his guardian alone. What he told the dwarf stunned Gimli to his very core, though he tried very hard not to appear alarmed. Faramir Aragorn’s son! As if the shock to Faramir hadn’t been enough for one day, finding out that the man he had always thought of as his father, in reality was not. Now he must also deal with the fact that he very well might be the unofficial heir to Gondor’s throne. Had Ecthelion known who this Thorongil was when he made his sordid plan? Had Finduilas known?

And what of Aragorn? How would he take the news? Gimli imagined how he himself would feel about suddenly finding himself father to an already grown son. But then he smiled to himself ruefully, for he did know a bit how that felt after all. Several years ago he had found himself in charge of a half grown elvish lad, who had by now become very like a son to him. Still the assignment had not been thrust upon him, as this would be with Aragorn. Gimli had taken on this responsibility voluntarily and with his eyes as wide open as they could possibly be for a dwarf who had little experience with adolescents and none at all with elves.

The relationship they had formed had had its challenging moments of course, but the dwarf knew it was the best decision he had ever made, for not only did love his elven charge as if they shared blood between them, their friendship had also done much to heal the rift between their respective peoples. It would be no different for the King of Gondor, Gimli thought. If Aragorn was half the man Gimli knew he was, he would be more than proud to claim Faramir as a son, as soon as he got over the initial shock of it of course. The man had a right to know. So Gimli knew how he must answer Legolas’ question as to whether or not Faramir should be told the truth of the matter. He must be told. And yet it was a delicate matter that deserved some discussion, so instead of answering immediately he paused for a moment.

“Well now lamb that is quite a question.” Gimli observed thoughtfully as he gazed into the worried eyes of his charge. “Aragorn’s son well, well, well… How about the two of us offer to take the first watch together, so we can discuss the matter and decide what is best? What say you, Lad?”

Legolas nodded in agreement to the idea, looking rather relieved that the dwarf did not seem at all panicked by this revelation. Gimli was not one to act in haste or without thought; something that the dwarf knew had a calming effect on his sometimes-impetuous charge.

Having informed Faramir of their intention, the elf and dwarf settled themselves just outside the edge of the camp, where they could watch for any dangers that might lurk in the woods and so they could talk privately of what needed to be done. As soon as they were out of earshot of the rangers, Legolas spoke up.

“Aragorn has a right to know!” he said as if he expected Gimli to disagree with him on the matter. “It would be wrong to keep this from him-a deception! Surely you do not think we should deceive Estel!”

“Peace, Lad. I never said that I thought any such thing. Only that we should take the time to discuss it,” Gimli appeased. “As a matter of fact, I agree with ye entirely. It would be wrong to keep such a thing hidden, for Aragorn’s sake as well as Faramir’s. They both have a right to know the truth of the matter.”

“Oh,” was Legolas’ somewhat deflated answer. He looked as if he did not quite know what to do with himself now that there was no need to argue his case, but then he took a deep breath as if to fortify himself and squared his shoulders before starting to rise.

“In that case, I shall tell him now.” He courageously announced, only to find himself hindered by a large had taking hold of his forearm. The dwarf shook his head at the thought of Legolas blurting out the information to the poor hapless Faramir without thought of the consequences.

“Not so fast, Lamb,” Gimli warned. “We will finish the watch and then tell him together. We needs must decide how to go about it as gently as possible.”

“Right,” Legolas said, “Of course you are right, Elvellon.”

“Ye might as well just assume that is always the case, Lad,” Gimli chuckled. “Now let us make a plan.”

The plan turned out to be to speak softly, to make sure that Faramir was already sitting down before breaking the news and to have plenty of wine on hand. A soon as one of the rangers came to relieve them of their watch, the two put the plan into action.

As soon as Faramir was once again seated in the privacy of his tent with a cup of wine once again pressed into his hand they were ready to talk. Gimli was the first to speak up.

“We need to speak to ye Lad, for there is something important ye need to know.” he began.

Faramir looked up at the dwarf with interest, imagining that Gimli was about to tell him some news from Aglarond or Eryn Lasgalen, or even some personal news about the health or well being of common friends.

“I hope nothing is amiss, friend Gimli,” Faramir said, frowning in concern at his two friends’ obvious discomfort.

“Nay, nay, nothing like that, Lad,” Gimli assured him. “Nothing is amiss. Not exactly, anyway-but something is…of interest. It is just that we have something we must tell ye about the news ye heard today. About the man, Thorongil, who was your birth father.”

Faramir looked surprised.

“What do you know of him?” he asked and Gimli heard the slight tremor in his voice. “Do you know him?”

“I do,” Gimli admitted, “And Legolas does.” He turned his eyes to the elf who was biting his lip nervously. Gimli then lowered his voice and placed a gentle hand on Faramir’s arm. “and so do you know him, Lad.”

“I know him?” Faramir asked, his eyes growing large.

“Indeed you do, but there is no reason for alarm. He is a good man, who will be happy to claim you as a rightful son.” Gimli began, but Faramir was beyond being comforted.

“Do not keep me in suspense, for Valar’s sake! Who is this man?” Faramir demanded, trying to rise to his feet. Before he could do so, Gimli placed a staying hand on his shoulder and Legolas knelt in front of him and grasped both of his wrists.

“Thorongil is a name Aragorn used many years ago,” Legolas explained softly. “He was a friend of Lord Denethor back then, and of your mother as well I believe. Do not look like that Faramir!”

Legolas looked to Gimli in alarm. Faramir had gone deadly pale and his hands trembled so that wine spilled over the top of the cup. Gimli rescued the cup and set it aside before rubbing Faramir’s back soothingly.

“Take a deep breath, Lad,” Gimli instructed. “I know it is a shock, but it is not as bad as it seems. This is not your fault in any way, and Aragorn is a good man. I do not doubt that given time to get over the surprise, he will be delighted at the news.”

Faramir took a deep breath as he was told, but then looked at Gimli as if he had suddenly grown a second head.

“What do you mean, he will be delighted with the news?” He asked in growing suspicion, “Aragorn must never know of this! Think of the implications of the king having a long lost bastard son. We must not tell him!”

Legolas shot to his feet, suddenly angry. “Of course you will tell him!” he exploded. “It would be wrong to keep such a thing from him.”

“It is my life and my business, Legolas, and I will thank you to stay out of it.” Faramir stated coldly.

“It may be your business, but it is Aragorn’s business as well,” Legolas returned hotly, “He has every right to know! Don’t you agree Gimli?”

By now Faramir had risen to his feet as well and two pairs of eyes looked toward the dwarf, to see who he would side with on the matter. Gimli cleared his throat and shot Legolas a warning glance that meant he should calm down and lower his voice, but when he spoke he could not disagree with the elf.

“He could have stated it more diplomatically but I am afraid Legolas is right, Lad. Aragorn has a right to know that he has a son.”

Rather than answering, Faramir simply ducked out of the tent and stalked off into the night leaving his friends watching his retreating back. Legolas groaned and rolled his eyes at his own poor way of handling things and then took a step as if to follow Faramir, but Gimli stepped in front of him to stop him.

“Let him go, Lamb. He will be back soon enough.” Gimli said. “He only needs some time to think. He’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

Legolas sighed and stepped up closer behind Gimli wrapping both arms around the dwarf’s neck and resting his chin on the thick auburn hair. Gimli reached up to pat a slender arm as they both stared out into the night, hoping that what the dwarf said was true and that Faramir would soon be back.

XXXXX

Night at the White Company’s Camp, Faramir POV

It was all too much, so Faramir escaped the tent and his well-meaning but frustrating friends in favor of the cold, clean air and the cloud-scattered stars. By and by a measure of calm returned to Faramir as he breathed deeply of the scents of pine and snow and campfire smoke, and gazed up at the distant, impartial stars.

'I cannot foresee anything but pain resulting from declaring to my King....MY KING...that I am his son.' Faramir thought to himself, before pausing again with a shudder and a deep breath. To Faramir, every part of his childhood now seemed...wrong. A puzzle that didn't fit, a picture which didn't make sense, a landscape where mountains were missing and rivers had re-routed themselves. If Denethor was not Faramir's father, then everything of Denethor which Faramir had seen in himself, over the years, was...wrong. The old lord Steward had possessed a number of fine qualities despite his manifest poor parenting (and envy-motivated decision to take up palantir-watching as a hobby). Determination, organization, the ability to look at men and really see them, what potential they might have....all of that, in himself, Faramir had attributed to Denethor. Faramir had been content in his identity as Boromir's brother, the son of Finduilas and Denethor.

And now... Well, Aragorn was a great man. One of the greatest and noblest men whom Faramir had ever met. From their first meeting, when Aragorn had traveled deep inside Faramir's mind to help him heal from the shadows, Faramir had known this man for the King returned, the King whom Faramir would follow to the gates of Barad-dur and beyond. Alas, Faramir's role just after the Battle of the Pelennor had been to stay and heal, and so Faramir had obeyed, until he was well enough to marshal plans for if the King failed....and then the King returned. And all that was once impossible or inconceivable became possible. Faramir could not think of a better man than Aragorn to lead the two kingdoms. He was fair, perceptive, strong-willed, yet he did not let the strength of his beliefs blind him to other opinions which might hold merit. Aragorn was learning how to go about ruling a city - a kingdom- in faster time than Faramir had ever expected, even if - Faramir paused to smile ruefully -the King was not overfond of paperwork.

Faramir almost shied away from thoughts of the King, although he had come to esteem Aragorn greatly. Who wouldn't? The man had fought an impossible fight for all of his life. He had traveled the world over, and gained a great understanding of men. Faramir was honored to serve Aragorn as Steward, and the two had achieved a friendly rapport, working and living so close together. They had silent exchanges during council meetings, they often worked in the same office trying to fix a crisis or avoid the next one. Faramir had grown to expect the King's hand to land on his good shoulder, and squeeze gently, before thanking Faramir quietly for his services, or telling Faramir to get some sleep. Aragorn would make a great King, and was becoming a good friend, to Faramir. And Aragorn - and Arwen - would make great parents. And it would be more joyous and easier for them to do so, without a natural child from a dishonorable night long ago encumbering them. No, Aragorn must not know. It was for the good of Gondor that Faramir would not budge on that point. Well, at least most of it was. But a small portion was personal. Faramir's relationship with Denethor had always been fraught with pain, disappointment, and misunderstanding. Faramir didn't want Aragorn to ever look at him with a father's disapproval. And he did not ever want to cause Arwen pain.

Just as Faramir's thoughts calmed, a single star shone clearly through the clouds. It was Gil-Estel, the star of hope, the star whose name Aragorn himself had borne as a child. Faramir's lips quirked into a rueful smile, "Well, that's a sign if ever there was one.' laughing a bit despite himself, although it was just as much release of panic as humor.

Taking a deep breath, Faramir re-entered the tent, and went to kneel beside dwarf and elf. "I owe you both an apology. My words were intemperate and disrespectful, and our friendship deserves better conduct despite my....ah..." Trying and failing to come up with an adequate description of his own state of mind, Faramir paused and just shook his head, sighing.

Legolas and Gimli exchanged a single long glance before promptly forgiving him. The single speaking look caused Faramir a moment of fleeting envy. He missed being so in tune with someone, that an entire complex conversation could be exchanged in a mere glance. It made him think of Eowyn, who was directing construction in Emyn Arnen with all the skill and delicacy of a Rohirric field master.

A cleared throat caused Faramir's startled gaze to return to Gimli, and the Steward flushed. Faramir hadn't been so distracted since he was a pre-teen worried about the late return of Boromir's unit from a routine patrol. And Denethor had made Faramir pay dearly for that failure of attention.

Gimli's gaze, in contrast, was warm and sympathetic, despite Faramir's appalling failure of manners. Even Legolas had assured Faramir that he had not taken offense, although Legolas quickly added, "You need not fear, Faramir. We will go with you to speak with Aragorn. You need not face him with this news alone."

Faramir stifled another hysteria-induced laugh. The Steward reflected that it was true what his King said, that Thranduil's son, faced with a challenge, would never give up on what he thought was right no matter what resistance he met with. "Although," Aragorn had added with a fond, amused smile, "He might well try to find a way to go around whatever obstacle has reared up."

Such as Faramir's determination to avoid a crisis both political and personal. "Legolas," Faramir appealed, sitting down beside the elf to meet his bright blue eyes, "You do well to speak for King Elessar. He is your friend of long-standing, and I do not doubt that you know his mind better than I."

"Good," Legolas interrupted, squeezing Faramir's arm supportively, "You will see. Gimli is right. Aragorn will quickly recover from the shock, and welcome you. And Arwen, too, much faster than you would think."

 

Gimli coughed and fiddled with his pipe, almost as if he were amused by the battle of wills occurring between 'his' elfling and the Steward of Gondor. Both continued to lob arguments and assurances against one another, it was almost like a 'tennis match' Gimli had seen between two elves whilst visiting Greenwood with Legolas

Taking a deep breath to keep hold on his patience, Faramir shook his head, "That was... not my conclusion, Legolas." The Crown Prince of the Greenwood immediately disagreed, and he and the Steward argued the subject whilst Gimli listened closely.

"I don't disagree that you know the King and Queen's opinions better, Legolas." Faramir eventually shot back in frustration, "But in the end, King Elessar's possible opinions have little bearing on my decision." Faramir raised a hand in hopes of stalling Legolas' renewed protest, "Please, hear me out. It is for the best that Aragorn not know. An illegitimate son with his own power base is a threat not only to his father, but also to his unborn siblings. And I will not play Meneldil to Aragorn's Valandil." Faramir thought that was all he need say. Surely both Legolas and Gimli would be familiar with the story of how Anarion's son had essentially usurped the kingship of Gondor from Isildur's youngest son, the rightful heir. Faramir himself had always been very careful to defer to Aragorn's authority in word and in deed, to make it clear to all that Aragorn was the King of Gondor as well as old Arnor, and that the reign of the stewards over Gondor had ended.

Legolas obviously knew the history but didn't consider it that relevant. Instead, he rolled his eyes. "Right. Because you've so clearly been pining for the opportunity to usurp Aragorn's throne."

"But what if someone else thinks that I do wish to be King?" Faramir interrupted hotly, "What if Eowyn bears me a son, and I die whilst he is still young, leaving him prey to who-knows-what influence? Legolas, you're of the blood royal, and Gimli, you as well. Surely you both understand that family matters are never simple when you mix in politics and power!"

Legolas immediately began an indignant protest, "I UNDERSTAND that you're being a stubborn fool, Faramir. The person in the best position to dismiss all of these RIDICULOUS conspiracy theories of yours..."

Legolas abruptly cut himself short at Gimli's strong hand on his shoulder. Then Gimli fixed Faramir with a very firm look. "What Legolas means to say, is that the man in the best position to assess the dangers you fear is Aragorn himself. I'm sure that between the two of you, and the rest of us, we can figure out what is best to do, and when."

Legolas, mollified now that someone was taking his side, nodded firmly. Gimli nodded back at the elf approvingly, before turning back to Faramir, who had no answer to give him. Faramir really didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he had other, more personal reasons, for his reluctance to share this knowledge with his King. Gimli spared Faramir the trouble of answering. Instead the dwarven warrior offered kindly, "You've had shock after shock tonight, Faramir. 'Tis no wonder that your temper runs short. All of this will seem less overwhelming after a good night's sleep, I am sure."

Faramir wasn't so sure about that. Suppressed panic over the unpredictable course his life had just taken led him to make a request despite his common sense arguing shrilly against it. Flushing with frustration, Faramir half-asked, half-ordered, "Very well. If I might have your word - both of you- that you will not speak of this to Aragorn." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Faramir regretted them. He knew better than to ask for an oath someone would not willingly give him - yet he hadn't been able to help himself.

"You most certainly may not!" Legolas snapped, leaning over Gimli's arm, the better to glare at Faramir all the more fiercely. "In fact, if you don't tell Aragorn about this as soon as we get back to the city, I will!"

Faramir's jaw dropped. Through his shocked horror, Faramir spared a moment to marvel that a countenance so fair and noble as that of Legolas could ever look quite so, well, mulish.

Gimli hauled Legolas back and swatted at him irritably, "Legolas, mind your temper!" Gimli's attention then turned to Faramir, causing the Steward to belatedly remember that Gimli was old enough that he had already been considered an adult amongst his people when ARAGORN was born, let alone Faramir himself. And what's more, that Aragorn generally listened when Gimli spoke softly. Perhaps because if the dwarf felt that he was not being listened to, his expression could become surprisingly deep and foreboding.

To Faramir's eternal gratitude, Gimli did not reprimand him for asking such an oath. Instead the dwarf said something entirely worse, "I know you to be a man of honor in all of your dealings, Faramir, including in your service to Aragorn. It seems you believe him to be a King whom you believe in, if not a friend to boot." Faramir took a deep ragged breath and looked away. Gimli continued, his tone softening, "It isn't your place, lad, to keep from Aragorn that you are his get. Illegitimate or not, the existence of a King's son is...well, at the least, its something the King should know of."

Faramir took another ragged breath, some part of him admitting the truth of that. But...King Aragorn and Queen Arwen were young. They would have a son of their own, or a daughter. And then the existence of a grown bastard would again become irrelevant at best, and at worst a personal embarrassment and a political liability. Faramir sighed, "I think that you are right, friend Gimli."

"Finally!" Legolas said, throwing up his hands.

Faramir couldn't hide an amused chuckle as he clarified, "I mean that Gimli is correct about my being tired."

That statement incited Legolas to leap over Gimli and wrestle Faramir to the ground in an attempt to literally bang some sense into the Steward's head. Fortunately, Faramir twisted away as the sons of Elrond had taught him, and the tussle turned relatively amiable, a release of stress, before Gimli managed to catch up with Legolas. The dwarven hero ended up sitting back down to watch the wrestling match with a sardonic comment about youth and fools.

But upon finding out that Faramir still hadn't changed his mind, Legolas started the argument anew for another few minutes, until Gimli put it to an end, "I'm sure that Faramir will do the right thing, elfling, without you or I having to explain this matter to the King. However if that hasn't happened by the time our visit is over...I think it would be fine for you to tell the King, if Faramir will not."

Legolas sighed. Faramir sighed, too, and decided that it must be a true compromise, because no one was truly happy with it.

Faramir slept poorly that night, tormented by nightmares. First he was being placed on the pyre at his father's order, only it was Aragorn's order that Faramir be burned to death. Then worse, Faramir dreamt of Arwen, dead in the bloody bed of birthing, much as Faramir's own mother had almost died. Then he dreamt of civil war, until a cool hand gently caressed his forehead. The soft notes of a lullaby with a familiar tune and slightly different words soothed Faramir into a few hours of more-or-less untroubled sleep. Just before dawn he dreamt of jumping and then diving from a great height into a pool of water, and just barely avoiding breaking his neck on the surprisingly shallow sandy surface.

The morning dawned bright and clear, and the miles passed quickly. When they stopped to water the horses, Legolas approached Faramir. The Steward and the elf apologized at the same time, to their mutual amusement.

"Truly, Legolas," Faramir assured the young elven warrior, "It is of no matter. In fact, it made me feel quite comfortable, in one manner of speaking. It was not truly Yule at the Citadel until Boromir had called me a fool and attempted to bang my head into something, at least once." Legolas had to laugh at that, and so did Faramir.

Sobering, Faramir told Legolas quietly, "Thank you. For your kindness, last night. Feeling sorry for causing Legolas' resulting blush - evidently the elf hadn't expected Faramir to remember the song in the light of day- Faramir asked, "The first line you sang, about the mist on the ocean...my mother used to sing that. My uncle, as well."

Legolas tilted his head in mild surprise, "I didn't realize that so much Sindarin had survived, in Dol Amroth, although I had known that some of my people bided there, and did not sail."

"Many old songs are in what I believe is a dialect related to Sindarin," Faramir replied, as the two checked their mounts' hooves, "My great-grandfather told my mother that the people of Edhellond had called it Nandrin. The words you used are somewhat different - for moon, you used 'Ithil,' that's the same, but for 'mist,' you used a different word. Faramir paused, searching his memory.

"Hithui." Legolas supplied, pleasantly taken aback.

"Ah. In Dol Amroth, its "Hitha." Faramir provided, continuing "Its interesting that the words changed that little over so many years."

"They were probably different to begin with. The settlers of Edhellond, if I remember my history, were elves of the wood of Lothlorien, including my cousin their former King Amroth. He spoke Sindarin, but his love, the Lady Nimrodel, still spoke Nandorin, her and her people." Legolas leaned towards Faramir, his eyes suddenly intent, "Do you know why the elves of Edhellond did not suffer from the sea-longing? They lived many years on Dol Amroth's shore, before finally departing west-over-water. Well, all save your many-times great grandmother the Princess Mithrellas, of course."

"I do not know." Faramir answered, sensing that this topic was both important to Legolas, and something that he did not wish to speak of in front of Gimli. Honoring that, Faramir too spoke softly, "Nimrodel wished to sail because she did not believe that she could find peace in Middle Earth, at least if I remember my histories correctly. Amroth traveled to the sea for his lady, and their retinues followed. It is quite possible that some of them simply were not touched by the sea-longing...if I understand correctly, it takes some harder than others, and even those afflicted can resist for a time, if they be very strong of will."

Then they were joined by Gimli, and the topic was dropped.

As their party approached the area where bandit activity had been reported, scouts separated away from the main column in twos and fours. It was Legolas, with Faramir, and two rangers once of Dol Amroth, Sabarion and Cadwain, who first sighted the bandits. They were on a bridge over a high but narrow waterfall when Legolas caught Faramir's attention, and directed it towards a fire on the shoreline, where a dozen or so bandits were tormenting several female captives.

Adrenaline and determination hit Faramir all at once. He removed his boots while commanding his men go back to the main force and then take the steeper of the two paths down the gorge to the bandits' camp. Faramir himself was planning to take a more direct route. As, evidently, was Legolas. The two stood on the edge of the bridge, bathed in the mist of the waterfall. It was the exact scene from Faramir's dream, save that Legolas was beside him.

"As you turn to dive, dive shallow." Faramir told the elf, "The pool is shallower than it looks." Legolas nodded determinedly, and together they jumped from the bridge down into the mist shrouded pool. Faramir couldn't see Legolas beside him, the mist was too thick, but he could feel the air displaced by the elf's passage, as they both turned to dive. They hit the surface of the pool at the same time, both barely avoiding scraped knees or worse as they swam up and out. The bandits didn't realize there was a chance of attack from the water, and so Legolas and Faramir were able to cut through their line before the enemies' alarm was up, separating the captives from their tormentors.

"Swim across!" Faramir ordered the women, several of whom he recognized as citizens of nearby villages. The eldest of the women nodded grimly, and led her fellows toward safety on the far shore. Faramir's attention was then consumed by the bandits. They were not expert warriors, but they were fierce and seasoned enough. They knew that they were fighting for their lives or at least their freedom. Any bandits taken in Gondor would be killed if there was proof of particularly heinous acts perpetrated by them, and at the very best would be assigned to hard labor rebuilding Osgiliath and other forts for an undetermined period of time. Fortunately, the bandits were not accustomed to working with one another against armed foes, and they spent more time getting in one another's way then effectively working together to take down Legolas and Faramir. The elf and the human prince did not have that problem. Though they had but rarely trained together, they quickly found a rhythm and effectively divided the obstacles before them, lending aid as needed. Faramir caused a diversion upon their arrival, so that Legolas had time to acquire a discarded bow and take down several of their foes with exquisite aim. Legolas stopped the hooked sword that almost claimed Faramir's life when the Steward's left arm weakened. With Legolas holding off both of their remaining foes for the moment, Faramir switched his blade to his right hand, and returned to the fight. Soon after, the balance of the rangers arrived, and the skirmish was quickly ended.

Not a moment later, Faramir saw Gimli barreling down on Legolas. Gimli's face was nearly purple with fierce emotion, and his beard bristled as if he were surrounded by his own thunderstorm. Although at first taken aback, Faramir quickly realized that it was love underlying Gimli's fury. And more, that it was Faramir himself who had essentially put Gimli's beloved ward into this situation (or at least countenanced it).

Legolas' eyes widened comically and he made a sound which was either an 'eep' or a very muffled curse. Despite the dwarven fate bearing down upon him, Legolas kept the presence of mind to tell Beregrond (who had made his way to Faramir), "Your Prince’s left arm needs tending."

Then Gimli stopped short in front of Legolas, and asked simply, "Are ye hurt?"

"No, Gimli." Legolas replied with unaccustomed meekness.

"Hmph." Gimli snorted. Evidently doubting the veracity of his elven ward's statement, the dwarf gave him a brief onceover. Assured that Legolas truly was uninjured, Gimli grabbed the front of the elf's tunic and pulled Legolas down to his eye level, growling "What were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed, elfling?"

Legolas visibly winced, eplying again in a small, conciliatory tone, "No, Gimli."

"You could have both broken your fool necks!" Gimli lectured, continuing on in fine form. Faramir, however, had to deal with the aftermath of the skirmish. Between organizing the provision of first-aid and escort back to their homes for the rescued captives, securing and first-aid for the surviving bandits, and preparations for their departure, Faramir had little attention to spare for Legolas. Though competent as always, Faramir's rangers were overly formal and stiff with him. He was their captain and their Prince, yes, but normally there was an ease about their routine. Now, Faramir's rangers were quite clearly displeased that their Prince had decided to risk his life without inviting them to play. These men were new to the rangers, and hesitant to express their opinions more bluntly. Faramir almost missed being called an idiot and harangued for shoddy, dangerous tactics, as Lord Gimli was currently doing to Prince Legolas. Faramir's long-time companions amongst the rangers, even those who held no rank, would not have hesitated to upbraid him for his conduct, at least once the immediate situation had been dealt with. But Beregrond and the city guards and Dol Amroth men who had been tapped to fill the new Ithilien Rangers of the White Company had not known Faramir for years as their beleaguered but essentially easy-going captain. They didn't know him well enough to take such liberties, and Faramir didn't really know how to encourage that. He sighed disconsolately, fearing that he would spend the rest of the day being addressed as "Your Highness" in that stiff tone Beregrond adopted when he was annoyed.

With the aftermath of the skirmish large dealt with, Gimli's continuing lecture once again drew Faramir's attention. The Prince of Ithilien felt quite guilty, because it was, after all, more-or-less his fault that Legolas had jumped off a bridge. "Lord Gimli.," Faramir called, "It is myself, not Prince Legolas, who should be the target of your ire. It was my plan as commander. Legolas merely followed my lead."

His statement did gain Faramir the attention of both elf and dwarf, although it did not seem to have been at all persuasive to Gimli. Personally, Faramir thought that his plan would have worked better if Legolas could have managed a reasonable facsimile of ever having heard the cover story before.

Instead, Legolas, hanging more or less limply trusting in Gimli's grasp, had merely blinked in surprise at Faramir. While Gimli's face provided a study in surprised skepticism, Legolas offered, "Ah, no, Faramir. I decided that I could get to the bandits in time to slow them down and acted accordingly. Its just that no one has done things like this WITH me since...well, since Aragorn was much younger." Despite his precarious position, Legolas managed an impish grin, albeit a small one, as he elaborated, "In fact, he was just about your age at the time...his older foster-brothers, well...they didn't much approve, and..."

 

Fortunately, Gimli interrupted the elven prince. Faramir's relief quickly turned to embarrassed chagrin as he found that he, as well, had earned Lord Gimli's displeasure. As lectures went, it was not the most demeaning or even the loudest lecture Faramir had ever received, but it was quite memorable nonetheless. Faramir was impressed that Legolas semi-routinely withstood this kind of ire without his knees buckling, for Faramir knew his own face to be flushed as bright as the setting sun. He was almost too distracted to notice that his rangers were quietly taking vicarious pleasure in Faramir's comeuppance, whilst trying – and not entirely succeeding – to look like they weren’t paying attention as they went about their assigned tasks. Faramir mentally planned unpleasant chores for them, before deciding that it would be unfair vengeance.

Gimli, apparently noticing Faramir's distraction, turned his regard again to Faramir, and said sternly, "You are not my responsibility, Prince of Ithilien, fortunately for you. But you can trust that I will withhold none of the details of THIS ENCOUNTER from your KING. If I know Aragorn- and I do- he'll be no more pleased than I am with this type of clutch-headed, all or nothing strategy."

Faramir took a stunned moment to absorb the multiple levels of meaning in that statement. It was reassuring that Gimli evidently didn't intend to tell Aragorn immediately about the King's having possibly sired Faramir. However, it was troubling that Gimli planned on telling Aragorn all of the details of the engagement. The King was so busy, Faramir usually liked to keep his descriptions of such incidents to an essential, "We divided our force and surrounded the enemy, Sire." Out of the corner of his eye, Faramir noted Beregrond smirk in satisfaction. But by that point Faramir was too worried about the blushing Legolas to plan a suitable vengeance upon Beregrond.

Gimli, after doublechecking that the surrounding forest had been cleared, simply stated that he and Legolas were taking a walk and would return shortly.

Faramir, despite having remembered everything that he really hated being told off, even by someone who didn't have any technical authority over him, still made himself walk forward and tell Gimli quietly, "It would not be fitting if Prince Legolas were killed -or wounded - within the bounds of Ithilien, particularly as he just set himself at risk for my people's sake."

To Faramir’s surprise, Legolas looked less than grateful for the assistance. Gimli chuckled darkly, before offering, "I'm not going to kill him, Faramir,” in a tone of voice which Faramir did not find even faintly reassuring.

"Well, ah, good.” Faramir drawled doubtfully, “And...what are you planning to do with him?"

Legolas just blushed furiously. Gimli surprised Faramir by patting Legolas' thigh reassuringly, then giving Faramir a patient look, the same expression a teacher would give a favored pupil who was having a slow day. "What would your brother do to you, were he in my place?" Gimli asked. That shocked Faramir still long enough for Gimli and Legolas to melt into the forest, and for Faramir's own rangers to sit him down to look over his shoulder.

Faramir numbly answered questions, and submitted to having his shoulder massaged and rubbed with healing ointment, all the while remembering one of Boromir's most impressive rages. In all honesty, Boromir might not have been all that upset about Faramir jumping off a bridge into a shallow pool. After all, Boromir had been MUCH better at that particular trick than Faramir, with the siege of Osgiliath being only the most important of a number of instances of such spectacular dives which Faramir could call to mind.

However, Faramir understood that what Gimli had meant was what, more generally, would Boromir have done to Faramir, had Faramir worried Boromir by risking his life in front of Boromir? And Faramir very, very clearly recalled the terrified outrage on Boromir's face, when his brother had come too late to an illegal duel between Faramir and a much older officer, one who had been a contemporary and a rival of Boromir's. Faramir had been surprised and pleased to have survived the bout alive and uninjured....but Boromir had been furious. Faramir hadn't sat easily for days. Faramir let his rangers help him dress back into his clothes and armor, all the while feeling sorry for Legolas. Faramir suspected that it would be a very unpleasant ride back to Minas Tirith for the poor, brave, young elf, once Gimli was done with him. The whole incident had been more Faramir’s fault than that of Legolas, yet it was Legolas who was suffering for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Back at the camp of the White Company the previous evening, just after revealing to Faramir that Aragorn was his father. [Legolas POV]

The hours had passed slowly, yet there was still there no sign of Faramir returning. Even though he knew that the steward would not have gone beyond the picket that surrounded the camp, Legolas was getting increasingly anxious.

“Gimli.”

“I said let it be, lad, he will return when he is ready. He has a great deal to think on, and he doesn’a need you buzzing round him like an angry wasp.”

Defeated, Legolas slumped down onto the bench that stood by the brazier. He understood, or at least he thought he understood, how Faramir must be feeling. To hear that the man whom you had always believed to be your father was not, must have come as a terrible shock. But Denethor had not been a good parent by all accounts, from what little Boromir had let slip during their time together in the Fellowship, Legolas had surmised that Denethor despised his younger son; treated him more harshly; judged him more severely.

Had Denethor known or suspected that Faramir was not his natural son?  
Surely Faramir would be happy to find that his real father was such a good man as Aragorn?

Questions swirled around in his head, none of which he could answer.

“There now I told ye he would return,” Gimli’s voice broke into his musing. “Remember what I said Lamb.” The dwarf cautioned as Faramir passed the guards and entered the tent letting the flap fall to give them some semblance of privacy.

To Legolas’ surprise the man dropped to his knees before them offering them an apology, Legolas shared a single long look with his dwarf before hurrying to assure Faramir that there was naught to forgive.

“This has come as a shock lad, ye will need time to get your head round such things …” Legolas, watching Faramir, realised that the steward was not listening to the dwarf’s words. Faramir seemed dazed, almost bemused, perhaps he was afraid of speaking of what he had been told to Aragorn?

"You need not fear, Faramir.” He told the steward. “We will go with you to speak with Aragorn. You need not face him with this news alone. He is not like other men, he will understand, believe me."

Faramir sat down next to him, trying to smile. "You do well to speak for King Elessar. He is your friend of long-standing, and I do not doubt that you know his mind better than I."

"Good, you will see. Gimli is right. Aragorn will quickly recover from the shock, and welcome you. And Arwen, too, much faster than you would think."

Legolas hoped that his words would put an end to Faramir’s determination to keep quiet about his birth, but he was swiftly proved wrong. The argument that followed left Legolas in no doubt that Faramir was a redoubtable debater, and that Gimli was refusing to aid Legolas in his attempts to persuade the steward. No matter how many pleading looks Legolas sent in his direction, Gimli was sitting back and watching the dispute with what looked suspiciously like a smile on his face.

"I don't disagree that you know the King and Queen's opinions better, Legolas." Faramir eventually shot back in frustration, "But in the end, King Elessar's possible opinions have little bearing on my decision." Faramir raised a hand in hopes of stalling Legolas' renewed protest, "Please, hear me out. It is for the best that Aragorn not know. An illegitimate son with his own power base is a threat not only to his father, but also to his unborn siblings. And I will not play Meneldil to Aragorn's Valandil."

Quoting history at him was not going to change his opinion, Legolas decided, especially since the example was so far off the mark as to be ridiculous, Faramir was nothing like Meneldil and so he told him so.

"But what if someone else thinks that I do wish to be King? What if Eowyn bears me a son, and I die whilst he is still young, leaving him prey to who-knows-what influence? Legolas, you're of the blood royal, and Gimli, you as well. Surely you both understand that family matters are never simple when you mix in politics and power!"

Almost grinding his teeth in frustration Legolas snapped "I UNDERSTAND that you're being a stubborn fool, Faramir. The person in the best position to dismiss all of these RIDICULOUS conspiracy theories of yours and ..." A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed and Legolas swallowed on his words and fell silent turning to watch as Gimli finally entered the fray.

"What Legolas means to say,” The dwarf began firmly, “Is that the man in the best position to assess the dangers you fear is Aragorn himself. I'm sure that between the two of you, and the rest of us, we can figure out what is best to do, and when. You've had shock after shock tonight, Faramir. 'Tis no wonder that your temper runs short. All of this will seem less overwhelming after a good night's sleep, I am sure."

Legolas nodded agreement with his friend and then stared in dismay at Faramir, as he demanded that they gave their oath that they would not speak of what they knew to Aragorn.

“You most certainly may not!" He snapped leaning over Gimli to glare at the steward outraged by such an ultimatum. "In fact,” he pushed his face forward scowling at the recalcitrant man, “if you don't tell Aragorn about this as soon as we get back to the city, I will!"

And then found he was being hauled back by his back braid and given a sharp swat on the arm.

"Legolas, mind your temper!"

Me! Legolas thought mutinously. He was not the one who was being unreasonable. Still he bit his tongue and waited for the dwarf to have his say, because when Gimli looked as he did now it was a very foolish elf or mortal who interrupted his discourse.  
"I know you to be a man of honor in all of your dealings, Faramir, including in your service to Aragorn. It seems you believe him to be a King whom you believe in, if not a friend to boot. It isn't your place, lad, to keep from Aragorn that you are his get.” Gimli had softened his tone “Illegitimate or not, the existence of a King's son is...well, at the least, it’s something the King should know of."

At last he is seeing sense Legolas thought watching as Faramir took one ragged breath after another obviously trying to calm himself and he beamed with satisfaction as the man finally admitted, "I think that you are right, friend Gimli."

He threw up his arms in triumph "Finally!" then scowled as Faramir explained himself.  
"I mean that Gimli is correct about my being tired."

That was the final straw as far as Legolas was concerned. Where words could not bring about reason; then other methods had best be tried. He launched himself over Gimli and knocked the man to the ground.

Faramir proved to be a daunting combatant, and soon the science of warfare gave way to what was more a scrambled tussle such as Legolas often took part in with the Elrondionnath. The pair of them grappled and jostled, each attempting to throw the other until breathless they fell apart only to find the dwarf looking at them the fiercesome expression on his face that caused them both to drop their gaze.

“Well now, having got that out of your systems do ye think the pair of ye might listen to a little sensible advice?” He growled.

Legolas spared a quick glance in Faramir’s direction and saw the same somewhat shamefaced expression on his face as he was certain was on his own.

Giving the sigh of a much put upon elder who is dealing with a pair of ‘idiot younglings’ he said, "I'm sure that Faramir will do the right thing, elfling, without you or I having to explain this matter to the King. However if that hasn't happened by the time our visit is over...I think it would be fine for you to tell the King, if Faramir will not."  
Legolas recognised he should be contented with this suggestion, but all he could think of was that his father was quite right there was nothing worse than compromise all it meant was that no one was satisfied with the outcome.

“And now I think ‘tis time we all got some rest,” the dwarf continued in the same reasonable tone that left neither Legolas nor Faramir in any doubt as to what was required.

Settling into his blankets Legolas listened for the constant heavy breathing that would tell him that Gimli was asleep, for himself Legolas doubted he could walk the path of dreams this night.

It seemed strange and yet not so to him, to believe that Faramir was Aragorn’s son. There were things that proclaimed that relationship once you looked for them, the eyes, the smile. Legolas shook his head; how had they all been so blind?

Yet in the silence of the night, well silent if you ignored Gimli’s sonorous snores, Legolas could more easily see what it was that Faramir feared.

The Gondorian had suffered so much, lost so much, and now all he had believed to be truth was revealed to be a lie, how did you come to terms with that? Legolas was certain that once he got over the shock of the way that his trust had been abused, Aragorn would welcome Faramir into his family and be proud of him and all he had achieved, but Faramir would not know that would be the case. He had suffered too much in the past to place any faith in what should be!

The man who was nominally his father had dealt with him in a fashion that an elf would never understand. Every child conceived to elven parents was loved, cherished it mattered not what or who they were a new life was something to be celebrated. Such a precious thing, so transient, so helpless – to abuse it, to blame it for the circumstances of their birth, would never be countenanced in elven society.

With all those years under the thumb of Denethor, and with only his brother’s love to sustain him for the majority of his life, was it a surprise that Faramir feared what such a revelation might mean?

Legolas’ thoughts were distracted by the soft pleas of a voice from close by. “No, please, no.” Legolas looked over to where Faramir’s bed roll had been placed. Faramir was asleep, yet he was not at peace, could not rest. Without much real thought Legolas began to sing softly, a lullaby that had been sung to him as an elfling. The melody wafted through the air and Legolas was pleased to see that the song seemed to bring a modicum of peace for the steward, who ceased mumbling and fell into a deeper calmer sleep.

And with that Legolas was also able to rest. Tomorrow he would try and persuade Faramir to see that telling Aragorn was the only sensible way to go given the information he had been given. Gimli’s presence in the morning prevented him from following through with this plan thankfully for it was not until they had travelled some leagues and the horses were being watered at the first stop of the morning that Legolas finally listened to his conscience. It really was not acceptable for a prince of the elves to behave as he had and he knew it his conscience told him. How would he feel if he was in Faramir’s situation, he should have been more considerate as he went to offer his regrets he found that Faramir was equally as anxious to make his own apologies. They grinned somewhat shamefacedly and then mutually agreed that it was wiser to say as little as possible about the night before other than the fact that Boromir would have found the whole thing highly amusing and for Faramir to thank Legolas for his song which had allowed the steward to find some rest.

Since both were uncomfortable, they chose to go on from there to find a topic of conversation that was less mutually discomforting. They passed a pleasant hour or so discussing the differences in dialect between Nandorin and Sindarin. Moving on from there to a brief exchange over the effects of the Sea longing which Legolas put an end to when Gimli came within their hearing. Legolas had no intention of drawing attention to his own problems with the call of the sea, his dwarf had enough on his plate as it was.

It was some time later, as they rode with Sabarion and Cadwain, that Legolas spotted signs of recent movement. He called Faramir’s attention to it and they dismounted and moved forward more cautiously. The river at this point fell over a cliff edge, it was not as high or steep as the Falls of Rauros, but Legolas thought it impressive enough what with the noise of the water combined with the spray. A narrow stone bridge had been built many ages ago to span the river and he and Faramir now on foot edged out onto the bridge. Below them on a sand bank a fire had been lit, Legolas counted a dozen or so bandits and several female captives.

He hissed as he saw what was happening to the women and beside him Faramir drew in a sharp breath on a muttered oath.

“We must rescue the women”

“Agreed, but even if we take the path it will take longer than we have if we are to spare those women a dreadful fate.”

Legolas and Faramir looked over the bridge down through the gorge where a shallow pool shimmered, then they looked back at each other before hurrying from the bridge where they divested themselves of boots, quivers and bows which they left in the keeping of the rangers who Faramir sent off to bring the rest of the group to their aid.

“Prince Legolas and I will go ahead.” He told them, carefully not expounding on how they were to do that. Legolas approved as the men disappeared into the trees.

"As you dive, dive shallow." Faramir told him, "The pool is shallower than it looks."

 

The cold drove the breath from Legolas’ body as he struck up to the surface, turning quickly to assure himself that Faramir was safe. The Gondorian grinned at him as he drew his sword. Legolas pointed to where a stack of weaponry stood, there were some Southron bows and quivers of arrows, and he silently indicated to his companion that he intended to appropriate one of them so that they could take out as many of the bandits as possible at a distance before closing with them in one to one fighting.

Obviously not expecting an attack from the water the bandits were in some disarray. Faramir causing a diversion while Legolas leapt and rolled snatching up a bow and arrows, and despatching several of the men before they could begin to mount a defence.  
Faramir had hurried the freed captives across the river to where they both hoped the rangers would soon appear, while Legolas held off the advancing bandits with his borrowed bow. Once he ran out of arrows he threw it to one side, and pulled his twin knives free.

Although they had not fought together before their battle training was such that Legolas found that he had an instant rapport with Faramir. They were able to watch each other’s backs and protect each other from an unexpected attack. Even so, they were hard pressed and Legolas was relieved when horses appeared on the other side of the river signalling the arrival of the rest of the patrol.

Legolas turned to Faramir grinning triumphantly. A grin which faded very swiftly as he saw his dwarf approaching.

“Aule’s balls” he muttered taking a step backwards, then seeing Beregrond’s anxious face as he dismounted, Legolas called over to him that Faramir had taken an injury in his left arm, that was as much an opportunity as Legolas had for conversation because Gimli was demanding his full attention.

"Are ye hurt?"

Knowing that the anger hid a real concern Legolas answered as conciliatingly as possible.

"No, Gimli."

Apparently unimpressed by this answer Gimli ran his eyes and then his hands over Legolas, and then grabbed the front of his tunic and hauled him down so that they were face to face.

"What were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed, elfling?"

Wincing at the epessë he said again, "No, Gimli."

"You could have both broken your fool necks!"

Legolas noticed Faramir slipping away, no doubt he wanted to put some space between himself and the irate dwarf. Would that he could do the same, but Gimli had no intention of letting go of his tunic anytime soon it seemed.

Words such as idiotic, foolish, reckless fell from the dwarf’s lips and with each new minatory epithet he shook Legolas hard making his teeth rattle.

“How could ye, how could ye” Gimli repeated over and over, “ye could have been killed. Aye and if ye have a desire to die I can offer ye a much quicker way of doing it, believe me.”

Having decided it was better to say nothing in response to the tirade Legolas let the dwarf scold and reprimand him as he chose. He was well deserving of it he knew. Having looked back at the bridge he now realised how much danger they had both been in when they chose to leap. Of course he could justify his choice by pointing out what was happening to the women, but he doubted that at the moment Gimli would consider that to be sufficient reason to leap into the unknown as he had. Later when his temper had cooled and he was less afraid of what might have been, but for now he rather feared that since there was no sign of his guardian calming down he would do well to avoid being upended where he stood and his backside assaulted by a hard dwarven hand. He was just trying to think of how best to avoid this happening when Faramir appeared at his side and did his best to divert Gimli’s ire.

Telling Gimli it was ‘his plan’ while admirable was hardly likely to diffuse his anger Legolas feared, for he knew his elven charge far too well and anyway Legolas had not helped his cause by failing to have the presence of mind to at least pretend that he was aware of this before Faramir spoke up. Not wanting Gimli to turn his ire on the Gondorian, Legolas hurried to fill the void by insisting that in fact it was his plan rather than Faramir’s.

“I have done something like this before Gimli, but it was some time ago and with Aragorn as it happens” he tried a grin in the hopes that the irony would tickle the dwarf’s sense of humour. "In fact, he was just about your age at the time...his older foster-brothers, well...they didn't much approve, and..."

“Enough” Gimli roared, “I have never heard so much nonsense in my life; the pair of ye are as bad as each other.”

He then gave both of them the benefit of his opinion of their choices and decisions no to mention their rather limited intelligence and their complete lack of common sense. It did not make for happy hearing, Legolas decided, sneaking a quick look in Faramir’s direction to see how he was withstanding the dwarven assault, and noting with some disfavour the amusement of the others of their party who were enjoying the dwarf’s tirade.

His disgruntlement with this was swiftly dampened when Gimli pronounced with ominous good humour that he was taking him for a walk into the nearby woods, since there was only one reason Legolas could think of why his guardian was suggesting this. He winced and attempted to tug free to no avail. Gimli pointed a finger at Faramir saying sternly, "You are not my responsibility, Prince of Ithilien, fortunately for you. But you can trust that I will withhold none of the details of THIS ENCOUNTER from your KING. If I know Aragorn- and I do- he'll be no more pleased than I am with this type of clutch-headed, all or nothing strategy. Come along elfling we have things to discuss that will go better if we have at least a little privacy.”

"It would not be fitting if Prince Legolas were killed -or wounded - within the bounds of Ithilien, particularly as he just set himself at risk for my people's sake." Faramir put in apparently concerned for his friends safety.

This concern rather than making grateful caused Legolas to scowl while Gimli chuckled and reassured the steward that he was not intending to kill him.

"Well, good. Ah...what are you planning to do with him?"

Legolas groaned and closed his eyes thoroughly embarrassed by that question and hoping against hope that Gimli would not answer it.

Instead Gimli answered a question with a question, "What would your brother do to you, were he in my place?" and while Faramir was still thinking that over, Legolas allowed himself to be dragged away not even bothering to find his boots or arguing for an opportunity to change his wet clothing.

Gimli said very little as they wound their way through the surrounding trees intent it seemed on locating a place where he could begin his discussion with his errant charge as soon as possible. But as ever he was thoughtful enough as to ensure it gave the required privacy and since it was close to where the water cascaded down into the pool the sound of the waterfall if would also drown the sounds that were concomitant with the way the discussion would unfortunately go. Legolas had already decided he would not argue or plead for leniency, he knew well enough that what motivated his dwarf was love and fear for his safety.

It was time to pay the price for frightening Gimli and he was prepared to pay in full.  
A small clearing where the spray from the water hung in the air was deemed satisfactory for the son of Gloin’s needs and he wasted little time on further scolding,

“Ye know why we are here elfling.” Gimli’s tone was gruff, but Legolas noted with some relief no longer angry.

“I do, and I regret upsetting you as I did elvellon I know your concern is always for my safety and I do appreciate it truly. But I have to say even at risk of your further displeasure that given similar circumstances I would make the same choices again.” He flinched as the dwarf growled but continued undaunted. “I am sorry Gimli, but the fact is that had we delayed those poor women may have faced further assaults upon their virtue I could not allow that.”

“No, no more than I can allow you to put your immortal life in danger lamb and having said that I think it is time we got on with this so we can put this incident behind us, come.”

A large hand was held out as Gimli settled himself onto a rock. Sighing at the inevitability of what was to come, Legolas loosened the ties on his leggings and allowed himself to be tugged forward over the dwarf’s lap. The cool sting of the water droplets fell on his exposed rump but before he could think more about that a sharp slap landed on one cheek. Despite his very best endeavours he could not prevent himself from rearing up at the sting. After that he set himself to endure and to accept the chastisement that Gimli thought necessary to make the important point of taking more care of himself and thinking before acting.

Legolas was quite sure he had learned this lesson long before Gimli came to the same conclusion and brought the punishment to an end. But even as he accepted the forgiveness and comfort that his dwarf offered him he also saw the tears in Gimli’s dark eyes and the knowledge that he had frightened his guardian very badly made him want to weep.

“I am sorry Gimli.”

“Aye Lamb I know” Gimli told him holding him close. “Are ye ready to go back yet, I know ye don’t catch cold like the rest of us but ye would be a sight more comfortable in some dry clothes I think.”

Despite his smarting backside Legolas could not prevent rolling his eyes and informing his guardian that he was unlikely to be comfortable any time soon.

They were both smiling over this when they got back to the campsite where Faramir waited for them a look of deep anxiety on his face.

XXXX

During the skirmish with the bandits, Gimli POV

His heart hammering madly, Gimli leapt down from the horse’s back and slammed the heft of his axe into the throat of the injured bandit just as the cur was trying to rise from the ground. An arrow had nicked the bandit’s shoulder and he was bleeding profusely, but it had not been enough to kill him. This time he stayed down. Swinging round, the dwarf swiftly removed a head from a neck as easily as if he had been slicing an apple in half and then turned toward the one remaining bandit, who by then was attempting to cross the river. Before Gimli could form a thought on how to reach him, one of the Ithilien rangers had released an arrow that neatly hit its target causing the man to sink beneath the rapidly reddening surface. It was then that Gimli realized the dead man had been just below the bridge when he was hit, right where Faramir and Legolas had landed after their mad leap into the river. The man had not been swimming. He had WADED across. No doubt his heavy overcoat and boots prevented him swimming. Gimli’s stomach seemed to drop to the ground as he realized the implications of this. Even in the middle of the river the bandit had been only shoulder deep in the water. Insanely, dangerously shallow, even for someone with the grace and physical prowess of his skilled charge.

Adrenaline ebbing, powerful feelings of fear and disgust filled the dwarf as he took in the grisly scene before him. As a seasoned warrior Gimli had seen such carnage and worse, and yet he felt that he would never become accustomed to the sight of so much blood and gore. He had to swallow hard on the bile that rose in his throat, especially when he glanced at his elven charge long enough to see that Legolas was spattered in blood. His own or someone else’s Gimli did not know, but he could see by the satisfied-almost triumphant-expression on the elf’s face that he at least was not seriously injured. The relief Gimli felt initially that the lad was still standing was rapidly replaced by hot white fury! Glancing toward Faramir and seeing his elf’s cocky expression mirrored on the young human’s face did not improve his humor one bit.

How could they be so careless and stupid? He almost expected such from Legolas who had proven time and again that thinking before acting just wasn’t his way. He was an impetuous, flighty thing and Gimli was quite sure that his own life had been shortened already from his association with the child.

But what of Faramir? Wasn’t Faramir supposed to be a sensible, thoughtful lad? Gimli had been told so, and yet the man’s actions today told an entirely different story. Of all the idiotic, half-cocked, feather brained schemes he’d seen in his long life, this might well have been the most ridiculous! Taking only enough time to wipe the blade of his axe on the grass, he stalked off toward the pair of miscreants to give them the full benefit of his opinions about their battle strategies, thinking that when he reached them he might just knock their heads together to see if that would result in giving them some sense. Or at least succeed in wiping the foolish grins from their faces.

Of course common sense prevailed and Gimli realized he could hardly physically assault the young steward in front of his men. Besides neither Legolas nor Faramir was still smiling by the time they caught sight of Gimli’s furious expression. In fact, Legolas’ eyes widened and he stepped back and swore under his breath as Faramir took in the scene with concerned eyes before being called away to have his shoulder tended, and to begin to call out orders to organize the cleanup of the skirmish.

Gimli did not recall everything he said in his fury, only that it culminated in him assuring Faramir that his King would receive a full detailed report from the dwarf, and in insisting that Legolas accompany him on a walk in the woods to discuss things, though they both knew there would be very little actual discussion.

As Gimli led his suddenly perfectly obedient charge through the woods he forced himself to let go of his anger. The dwarf knew his own strength and he also knew that Legolas would submit to his ministrations no matter how harshly he treated him, and Gimli had no desire to take advantage of that fact and cause him a real injury by acting in anger. Gimli was mostly settled down and Legolas was resigned to the inevitable by the time the dwarf found a place that suited his needs.

His anger was briefly ignited again when Legolas pointed out that in the same circumstances he would do the same thing since it meant rescuing the women captives.

This sort of all or nothing thinking that Legolas normally indulged in needed to be addressed, Gimli thought, for the elfling had only considered one possible outcome and that was that he and Faramir would make the jump successfully. The few extra minutes it had taken the rest of the party to take the steep path would have been much safer and likely would have had the same results even if it meant the women had had to wait a little longer to be saved from their captors. How like the very young to feel that nothing could touch them and that they were invincible! Gimli imagined that the young human suffered from the same delusional thinking as his elfling, for it seemed to him that a person of any race needed to be well into adulthood before he fully realized his own vulnerability. There must be some switch in the brain that was triggered with maturity, and Gimli despaired of Legolas living long enough to get to that point in his life.

Still now was not the time to bring this up since Faramir and the others were sure to be wanting to travel on very soon. Likely Legolas would be much more subdued and pliable after spending the day riding in less than comfortable circumstances, and would be more open to a teachable moment than he was just now in the wake of the successful rescue.

So instead of commenting on Legolas’ statement, Gimli merely held out a large hand and guided him into place across his lap before setting about his task with the thoroughness and attention he would give to any duty he took seriously. And carrying out his oath to care for Thranduil’s son was a duty he took more seriously than any other, sometimes to the elf’s deep chagrin. Gimli thought this was very probably one of those times, and yet afterwards Legolas readily accepted the comfort of his arms, and was even quite amiable on the walk back to the battle site. It was to his elf’s credit that he never held a grudge when it came to just correction.

When the two of them arrived it was to the sight of Faramir and his men preparing to leave the area, and to the familiar acrid odor of burning flesh from where the bodies of the bandits had been piled and set on fire in order to cleanse the land of their filth. When Legolas turned to see where the smoke was beginning to rise, Gimli turned him roughly forward and ordered him not to look.

“Tisn’t proper for ye to see such things, Lamb,” Gimli stated, fully aware of how ridiculous this sounded considering Legolas had done most of the killing. Still he knew the lad internalized such things and sometimes experienced difficulty sleeping or nightmares because of the horrors he had seen. The firstborn were not designed to deal with death, and seeing as much of it as his elfling had seen was bound to take its toll even on the staunchest of warriors. And Legolas after all was said and done still just an adolescent elfling who had lost a great deal of the innocence of childhood. There was no need to add to it in Gimli’s opinion. As he expected, however, Legolas only laughed at him.

“It isn’t as if I haven’t seen such things and worse, Elvellon…” he began.

“I care not what ye’ve seen before, Elfling,” Gimli barked before Legolas could argue the point further. “For now I expect ye to mind me and do as ye’re told and that means ye’ll get yourself changed to dry clothes immediately and then get to your horse and ye won’t look back, just as I’ve already told ye. Is that plain or do I need to illustrate the seriousness of my meaning?”

Any humor that Legolas was still feeling evidently melted away at the command from Gimli that he was to ride, for his smile disappeared as he quickly changed clothes and then he winced and looked pleadingly at the dwarf as they approached the horse. Gimli ignored that and pointed at the horse indicating that he did indeed expect the elf to ride and to give him a hand up to ride behind him as well. Legolas did not complain, but he could not completely stifle a groan as his tender flesh came into contact with the horse’s back. Gimli ignored that as well. No doubt it would be a difficult day for his charge, but Legolas should have considered that before he decided to pull such a dangerous, foolish stunt back at the bridge.

The company rode mostly in silence, but Gimli noticed that Faramir looked almost pained as the hours passed. Perhaps he was worried over his friend or maybe concerned for his own future when the King found out the details of the battle. Or more likely yet, he was concerned over what would happen when Aragorn learned the truth about their relationship. Whatever the case, Gimli did not ask, and Faramir did not volunteer his thoughts on the matter.

But the change in his feelings for the young man was brought very much to Gimli’s attention when after a suitable campsite had been found the question of a hunting party being sent out for food came up. As ever Legolas was the first to volunteer for this duty, but Gimli brought him up short by whispering low enough that only the elf could hear.

“Without me ye won’t be going anywhere, young elf! Ye’ll stay close within my sight for the remainder of this journey and I am not inclined to hunt just at the moment. Besides that ye’ve had enough excitement for one day I think.”

Legolas rolled his eyes and sighed at this restriction, but he didn’t quite have the nerve to complain openly. Gimli knew he could count on that for he knew Legolas would not risk the others catching wind of his disgrace. Faramir evidently recognized what was taking place anyway, for he was quick to suggest that Legolas and Gimli dig a firepit while he and some of his men hunted for dinner instead.

That’s when Gimli realized the impact of knowing that Faramir was Aragorn’s son would have on him, for suddenly he could not fathom the idea of letting Faramir from his sight either. What if he allowed Faramir to go out hunting in his injured state and something happened to him? Aragorn was a sworn brother to the dwarf so that meant that Gimli now felt a familial tie to the steward as well. Faramir may not have been officially in his charge, but he felt a measure of responsibility toward his sworn brother’s son and he could not in good conscious allow him to go.

“Actually, Prince Faramir, I was hoping ye could spare me a moment or two of your time,” Gimli said. “I would think there are others who have had a less trying day who can hunt. Captain Beregrond is quite capable of making the assignments I am sure.”

Faramir looked for a moment as if he would like to argue, but a raised dwarven eyebrow must have made him reconsider, for he only nodded politely at Gimli, before turning the task over to Captain Beregrond.

Long practice of the rangers meant the campsite was soon up and there was nothing for anyone to do but wait until the hunting party returned. Gimli was gratified to note that Legolas was painstakingly careful about remaining in his line of vision, though it was more likely to do with the fact that he had no desire to be hauled back by his ear were he to wander away than a real desire to be obedient to his guardian. Whatever the motivation, the dwarf was pleased by it, and let his charge know it by giving him a nod of approval as Legolas sat down next to him when Gimli sank down to lean back against the trunk of a tree. He pulled his pipe out and looked about the camp to where Faramir was talking quietly to one of his rangers. Just as Gimli was watching him with knowing eyes, the man looked up and flushed, but then made his way across the campsite to where the dwarf and elf were sitting.

“You wished to speak to me, Lord Gimli?” he asked politely.

“Aye indeed I did!” Gimli was polite too, but his tone left little doubt that he was quite serious over the topic of choice. “I wish to discuss your so called ‘battle strategy’ back there at the bridge.”

Faramir did have the decency to look contrite at least, Gimli noticed, and to apologize beautifully for having endangered Legolas by his choices.

“And well ye should be sorry, young prince!” Gimli said firmly, but without malice. “My lad could have been badly injured or killed had he misjudged the depth of the river even slightly as could ye have, Faramir.”

“It was a careless plan,” Faramir admitted, looking down at his hands.

“That is where ye are wrong, Lad,” Gimli stated causing Faramir to look up in surprise. “That was no plan at all, but a thoughtless knee jerk reaction!”

Seeming to not appreciate his battle tactics so described, Faramir objected softly, but evenly, “A knee jerk reaction that happened to work very well, friend Gimli.”

“More accurately a pure stroke of luck that worked very well,” Gimli corrected him. “But a good leader always has a back up plan. Tell me, Faramir, what would ye have done had Legolas been injured in the fall? Even just broken a leg perhaps or something so small as getting an eyeful of sand from the bottom of the river. Would ye have been able to save him from being drowned and then single handedly defeated those bandits? Had you been the one injured, would ye have expected him to leave ye to die while he fought off the bandits on his own? And what exactly would ye have accomplished if ye had both been hurt?”

When no answer was immediately forthcoming, Gimli turned toward Legolas.

“Ye say ye would do the same again in similar circumstances, elfling, but what exactly would have happened if an error had been made? A verbal answer please!” This in response to Legolas’ shrug that Gimli well knew meant he was disinclined to think about it. A cleared throat loosened his tongue though.

“We would have alerted the bandits to the presence of the rest of the rescue party and they might have gotten away.” He admitted, finally understanding Gimli’s true frustration. Or at least the dwarf hoped so.

Faramir nodded miserably. “Or worse yet, they might have been prepared and overcome the rest of the party. I just didn’t think,” he admitted looking decidedly green over the realization.

“So it wasn’t just your own lives you were risking with that foolish decision,” Gimli pointed out, “One moment of not thinking could lead to a lifetime of regret. Is it not so?”

Both of the young faces before him appeared to be thoroughly horrified at the thought, but neither could deny the truth of the statement. Feeling he had made his point, Gimli reached out to pat Faramir’s knee.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Faramir,” the dwarf said, “but a good leader admits them and learns from them. You have done both. You are a good and honorable man and another time ye will not make the same error in judgment I am sure. For now, ye had best go see what our fine hunters have brought down for the pot tonight.”

Just as he had hoped, those words sent Faramir back to organizing his men and planning what needed to be done about the night watches. Keeping busy would be the best thing to keep Faramir from worrying overmuch over what had transpired this day and what would take place once they returned to the White City, and he had to face the news he would eventually have to break to his king.

With Faramir gone, Legolas let out a long breath and then leaned his head on Gimli’s broad shoulder, making the dwarf smile fondly and then begin to run a work calloused hand over the long silky hair.

“I’m sorry Gimli,” Legolas said with real regret in his voice. Gimli knew the child had been sorry the first time he had said it, but then he had been mainly sorry for upsetting his guardian, not for the actions that had caused the upset to begin with. Now he understood the true gravity of the error he had made and was sorry for what he had done, which Gimli had known would be the case once he understood things.

“Ahh well, Laddie, I know ye are.” Gimli assured him he was forgiven by planting a kiss to the top of his head, something he wouldn’t normally do in front of others, but Legolas didn’t seem to mind. He only let out another ragged breath and turned his face into Gimli’s shoulder. Gimli placed a comforting arm around the slender shoulders and pulled the elfling close. “There is no need to worry anymore, Lamb,” he soothed, “I only wanted you to understand my meaning. It is all over now.”

“Only for me,” Legolas reminded him, turning worried eyes to where Faramir was now overseeing the preparation of the brace of geese that the rangers had brought down. Gimli couldn’t deny that was so. No one knew for sure what Faramir would be facing tomorrow when Aragorn heard the details of the engagement with the bandits, or even how the King would react to the even bigger and possibly more devastating news that he had suddenly gained a grown son.


	4. Chapter 4

Camp of the White Company, the night following the bridge incident.

Excerpt from previous chapter:

“Gimli placed a comforting arm around the slender shoulders and pulled the elfling close. “There is no need to worry anymore, Lamb,” he soothed, “I only wanted you to understand my meaning. It is all over now.”

“Only for me,” Legolas reminded him, turning worried eyes to where Faramir was now overseeing the preparation of the brace of geese that the rangers had brought down. Gimli couldn’t deny that was so. No one knew for sure what Faramir would be facing tomorrow when Aragorn heard the details of the engagement with the bandits, or even how the King would react to the even bigger and possibly more devastating news that he had suddenly gained a grown son.”

 

[Faramir POV]

Faramir's own thoughts were running along much the same lines. He found himself very troubled at the thought of disappointing his King, even more so now that he knew Aragorn to be his true father. The fear of losing Aragorn's trust and respect bothered Faramir much more than his certainty that he had earned some kind of punishment for his failure of judgment. Faramir had withstood harsh punishments at his Lord Father's command, or rather at Lord Denethor's command, too often to fear them. Some had been entirely justified, others less so. [He'd also withstood torture at the hands of the Haradrim.] Whatever consequence his King, whom Faramir knew for a fair and kind man as well as a stern one, would order for Faramir, in and of itself, held little fear for the Steward. It was more the loss of Aragorn's good opinion which Faramir dreaded.

The Steward did his best not to dwell on what Aragorn would think of Faramir being his son. The King's opinion of that could hardly be improved by learning of Faramir's idiocy in leaping off of a bridge to confront bandits, and worse, permitting Legolas to join him. But Faramir wasn't letting himself think of that. He didn't plan on telling the King at all, let alone anytime soon. That Gimli and Legolas intended to ensure Aragorn was aware of that intelligence 'ere they departed the city again was problematical, but not Faramir's most immediate worry. The visit of elf and dwarf was planned to extend for weeks if not months, and much could happen in a few months. Faramir held a great deal of confidence in his own powers of persuasion. Maybe he could change the determined twosome's mind; maybe they would forget. Maybe Eowyn would side with Faramir, and then she could change their mind for them.

And there was nothing that Faramir could do about either of those problems now. But he could make amends with Beregrond, and his long-suffering guards.

Beregrond was taking a stint at guard duty, something which as a Captain he need not even do. It was one of many things Faramir had found to admire about Beregrond, since he'd first learned of the man's having risked death and dishonor to aid Peregrine Took in saving Faramir's life. Faramir waved Beregrond's companion aside, asking him to fetch the two Dol Amroth rangers who had been with Faramir earlier that day.

"I failed to think, before I sent us into that fray, today." Faramir confessed quietly to the Captain of his White Company.

Beregrond sighed, respect for Faramir's office and person obviously warring with what he wanted to say.

"You may speak plainly, little though I will like what you have to say." Faramir allowed, with a wry, rueful smile. When Beregrond still hesitated, Faramir encouraged him, confessing with wistful, ironic regret, "I am...well, I was, accustomed to blunt honesty bordering on disrespect from my officers. We had served together under difficult and claustrophobic conditions for many years. They were my subordinates and I was their lord, but we were also friends."

It was the recently arrived Sabarion who first felt free to comment, "In that case, Lord Faramir, you acted the bloody fool."

Beregrond was clearly horrified and on the verge of clapping Sabarion in irons, but Faramir couldn't completely suppress a laugh. In the same rolling, sonorous seaside accent, he replied, "I have missed the subtlety and courtly grace of the Belfalas enlisted seaman." Then Faramir added, "Let it go, Beregrond, he's not wrong."

Cadwain stepped in between his fellow Dol Amroth man and their insulted Captain, and a spirited discussion ensued about the proper terms of address and respect due to the founding member of Gondor's junior princedom. The Dol Amroth men had been accustomed to the young Lords Boromir and Faramir running wild with their Prince's offspring, and most days Faramir still thought of himself as Lord Denethor's younger son. Which he wasn't, and apparently hadn't ever been, but that wasn't here or there.

"I could have hurt us badly, today." Faramir interrupted the squabble, "It took the company a good five minutes longer to get down the ridge without my knowledge of the area. More like ten minutes, counting that Prince Legolas could have convinced the trees to ease our way further. It won't happen again. And if I forget that, I expect one of you to remind me."

At that, even Beregrond couldn't hide a smile. "Yes, of course, your highness," the Captain of the White Company agreed in a tone of utmost respect and deference, but his eyes twinkled with humor, and relief.

"And if you'll be needing someone to dive off of cliffs in the future, m' Lord Prince," Sabarion offered with his own wide grin, "Best be remembering that I'm better at it than you are, being Dol Amroth born and bred, and not only half a Swan Knight like yourself."

Faramir quite frankly doubted that boast of skill, but they all knew that Sabarion was from a purely expedient point of view, more expendable. But Faramir wasn't his father...well, wasn't Lord Denethor. And he didn't spend men unless there was absolutely no choice, and the value of what was to be preserved outweighed the blood price. The ground from Osgiliath to the gates of the city, and the rangers who had fallen there, would haunt Faramir forever.

"I hope to avoid future long dives into shallow pools, on my own behalf or anyone else's." Particularly the royal children of elven allies, Faramir added to himself. He took leave of his men, and returned to the company of his brother's...and his father's, companions. He was sure that Legolas at the least heard his approach, but the elf didn't lift his head from his dwarven guardian's lap until Faramir was right before him. Faramir's heart ached to see the normally bright spirit so worried, and in such discomfort, particularly knowing that both conditions were, in some way, Faramir's fault.

"Legolas," Faramir said softly, offering a pot of the cream his rangers used to soothe saddle sores and other minor pains, "This might help you sleep."

"No, thank you." Legolas replied softly, his bright blue eyes wistful but unwavering. "I don't really deserve..."

"Ye will take it and ye will use it, laddie." Gimli overrode his charge firmly, with an approving nod for Faramir. Faramir nodded back, and set the cream down beside Legolas, before leaving to attend to other duties. He was heartened to see that Legolas had in Gimli someone who cared for him, who knew how to soothe and encourage the brave but impetuous elven prince, as well as rein him in for his own good. Faramir was also a bit envious. Boromir had cared for him and looked out for him, but he had been brother first and father-figure second, being a scant five years older than Faramir. Their uncle Imrahil loved them both, had cared for them, took pride in them, and disciplined them with kindness as well as firmness. But Imrahil had not known Faramir anywhere near as well as Lord Gimli seemed to know Prince Legolas. Faramir could deceive his uncle, if he had to. But the Steward didn't think that Gimli would let Legolas get away with, say, a polite refusal to give the names of the men Lord Denethor had set to bruising his younger son...Faramir. Or with dancing a thin line over which parts of Gondor's southern spy network were the assistant spymaster Dervorin's, and which roles were still played, on occasion, by Faramir himself.

The following morning dawned bright and clear, and all too soon for Faramir's peace of mind, they were approaching Minas Tirith. And who should have taken it into his mind to ride out to meet them, but the King of Men himself.

"You being the most punctual of men, my Steward," the King remarked with a relieved grin, "I had grown slightly worried when first day became fifth day."

Faramir had to grin back. Greetings were exchanged, the King's bright laugh mingling with Prince Legolas' cheerful sallies in the bright sun before the white walls. Aragorn's clear-seeing gray eyes moved back and forth between Faramir, his own companions of the Quest, and even the most junior of Faramir's rangers. As his column of the White Company joined the King's guard, Faramir admitted, at least to himself, that he really did love this man. His King, his father, whatever else Aragorn might be to him, just seeing Aragorn again made Faramir feel as if he had come home. A similar emotion to seeing Eowyn, but different.

"Faramir?" The King asked, guiding Roheryn closer to Blythe so that he could nudge the Steward's leg.

"Hmm? Oh!" Faramir replied, sighing as he remembered all that he had to tell the King - or not tell the King, as the case may be. But at least the bridge incident would have to be disclosed in full, as well as the galling re-occurrence of the weakness in Faramir's left shoulder. "We ran into some trouble, bandits with several of our people to captive. We rescued the villagers and dispatched the bandits - none of whom were minded to surrender - with no casualties on our side, however I bungled the matter badly. We very easily could have lost several men, or worse."

Aragorn listened thoughtfully to Faramir's quiet explanation. "What happened?" He replied, patience in his expression and trust in his gray-eyed gaze.

"I failed to look before I leapt," Faramir said, shaking his head ruefully, "Almost literally. And by doing so, lured Legolas into similar folly."

"Ah." The King replied levelly, laying a kind hand upon Faramir's shoulder. "I deem it best to discuss the matter in confidence, in that case." Squeezing Faramir's good shoulder gently, Aragorn added, "And I am most relieved, to see you all well."

Faramir smiled back, before faltering. He should not let himself be this close - or become closer -to the man who was his natural father. There had to be some distance between them, and it was too confusing, that Aragorn was his father, and yet not. And, if Faramir's judgment of the political situation was valid, Aragorn must never know that he was Faramir's father. Or that he would be a grandfather, come the spring. For Eowyn even now carried their first child, and Faramir would not willingly put their unborn babe at greater risk. For all of their sakes, Faramir would have to create more emotional distance between himself and the King, as much as it would pain him to do so.

Giving Faramir a concerned, confused look, the King turned to Captain Beregrond, "Faramir's citadel staff has arranged accommodations for you and yours in the guardhouses built beside the harbor."

"Much appreciated, my King." Beregrond accepted graciously, before pausing. "Ah, My King, it behooves me to inform you that my Prince took a blow during the last engagement, which resulted in lingering weakness and pain in his left shoulder."

"Oh, did he, now?" Aragorn commented with some asperity, "Really, Faramir? No casualties or injuries?"

Under his breath, but just loud enough for Beregrond to hear, Faramir murmured, "Oh, thank you so very much, Beregrond." Beregrond's reply was only a lifted eyebrow and a glint to his eyes. Faramir sighed, and accepted that his Captain was just doing as Faramir had asked him to, and speaking up when he felt that his Prince was making a mistake.

"Well, Faramir?" The King repeated, whilst Gimli and Legolas looked on with interest.

"I had intended to tell you of it, my King, but not until after our debrief on the incident as a whole. It was not an injury proper, and it does not pain me greatly."

"Next time, my Steward, I would thank you to remember that injuries - even minor ones - take precedence over routine conferences on recently concluded actions. Unless war itself is imminent." Aragorn scolded.

Soon enough, Faramir found himself comfortably seated on a settee in the King's study, while Aragorn himself examined his shoulder with firm, gentle fingers. Even as much care as the King was taking, the pressure on his sore shoulder was enough to make Faramir grit his teeth and turn his gaze.

 

"Steady, ernil muin nin. I am almost finished." Aragorn murmured. Faramir took a deep, ragged breath. It was not so much the pain as his King's terms of address. They had become very close, Steward and King, in the brief time since the end of the Ring War. They worked very closely together, and Queen Arwen had become very fond of both the Steward and his wife the White Lady. But it was too much, for Faramir's King to comfort him, and call him 'my dear prince,' when Faramir was trying to create distance between them.

The King finished looking at his weak shoulder, and sat back on his chair with an expression of faint displeasure which Faramir knew, without having to ask, meant that Aragorn-the-healer was unhappy with the condition of the joint, but not to the extent that he was planning anything rash, like forbidding Faramir the field or making him wear the much-despised sling.

 

"Your range of motion is near normal, though it pains you slightly to move that much. Yes, it does, Faramir, I can tell. And it was worse yesterday, was it not?"

Faramir sighed, and then nodded.

Aragorn nodded slowly back, "Yes, I thought so. You've overstrained the muscles again, here," the King touched cool fingers to the front of Faramir's shoulder, and then the side, "and here. What type of blow was it, which caused the weakness again?"

"A very large, ugly southron double-handed axe, Aragorn." Legolas supplied helpfully. "Faramir met it with his sword, before kneeing the brute in a...sensitive area. Then Faramir’s sword arm just...dropped."

"Legolas covered me long enough for me to switch my blade to the right," Faramir added, "Else it could have gone much worse for me."

"Well, thank goodness one of you was paying attention." Aragorn murmured, giving Legolas a thankful look. Faramir sighed again. He didn't think that was entirely fair. It had been months since he'd last had problems with his shoulder in routine engagements. Although, perhaps in retrospect, yesterday's fracas had been far from standard.

One of Aragorn's guards returned with a medicated salve which smelled unpleasantly of mint to Faramir. The Steward also knew that it would soothe and numb the pain in his shoulder, and leave him feeling much better the following day, so he began to obediently permit the King access to his shoulder again. Then Faramir remembered that he had yet to confess the circumstances of yesterday's near-disaster, and that he was trying to create distance between himself and Aragorn. So he pulled back, shaking his head, and reached for his shirt.

"Hold still, Faramir." Aragorn commanded, gently knocking aside Faramir's hand before it could grasp his shirt. "A full description of whatever it is that you and Legolas got into - Yes, 'Las, I know that you were involved. You're always involved - can wait until I'm done with this. I'll not have you in unnecessary pain."

Out of the corner of his eye, Faramir noted Legolas huffing indignantly, and thought that Gimli's eyes were twinkling a bit. But Faramir was determined not to accept this measure of comfort from the King. The examination of his shoulder had been necessary, to make sure that nothing was seriously wrong. But he didn't need the salve, and the pain would keep him sharp for what promised to be an unpleasant interview.

"No, thank you." Faramir said politely, but firmly. Sidestepping the King's hands, Faramir maneuvered himself neatly away from the settee in the opposite direction of his discarded shirt. It meant allowing Legolas and Gimli a clear view of Faramir's scarred back, but Faramir trusted them, and thought that they'd probably seen him half-nude before, in any case.

It was Aragorn's turn to huff in frustration, as he clapped a hand onto Faramir's good shoulder, holding the Steward in place while he applied a firm swat to Faramir's backside with his other hand. Faramir couldn't conceal a gasp, and surprise held him still long enough for Aragorn to push him back into his seat without further protest. Faramir squirmed a bit, feeling the stinging outline of his King's hand. Blushing, he looked up, clearly thinking 'well, that was entirely unnecessary.'

But Faramir had forgotten that one did not always have to speak, for Aragorn to hear. The King rolled his eyes as his skilled fingers began to gently massage the odoriferous salve onto Faramir's shoulder. "Then HOLD STILL, Faramir." Aragorn reprimanded him in fond exasperation.

"It really isn't necessary, Sire. I'm not in that much discomfort." Faramir objected again, still squirming a bit, although he did not try to get up again. Nor did he look up to see if Legolas and Gimli had heard - or seen- the King's smacking him like a disobedient child. The guards, fortunately, had left the three of them alone with the King.

Aragorn sighed, shaking his head at Faramir. "Unless you've suddenly acquired seven decades of experience as a healer, Faramir, or I've died and left you King, then HOLD STILL."

Faramir turned white, and pulled away again, at even the thought of Aragorn's death, and what it meant to Faramir that it might not have meant before this week.

Cursing softly as Faramir's wince caused his hand to miss the Steward's shoulder and get salve on the back of the settee, Aragorn scolded, "It's just an expression, Faramir. Honestly, what is wrong with you today? I lost track of the number of times which my foster-father Lord Elrond said something similar to me when I challenged his will as healer - you remember, do you not, Legolas?"

But Legolas had also gone white-faced, and only managed to mumble something non-committal.

Aragorn threw up his hands in frustration, "What in the name of Eru did the two of you do, that you are so unsettled even contemplating telling me of it?"

"I was trying to tell you, my King, but then you felt the need to baste me in mint." Faramir replied, again trying to subtly pull himself away from King's gentle touch.

"Faramir, I am telling you - and I will not tell you again - HOLD STILL. I am not done with you."

Faramir held still. It seemed the prudent thing to do. As Aragorn's hands and the salve did their job, he felt himself relaxing despite himself. Faramir's shoulder had taken months to heal properly, and the pain and stiffness still flared up from time to time. The feeling of Aragorn's hands bringing cool relief had become a welcome one. Often, Faramir would relax so much that he slipped into a kind of half-trance, coming to with his head resting against the King's shoulder, and to see an amused, fond expression in the King's gray eyes. Now, Faramir knew that he couldn't let that happen, ever again. It hurt, but he couldn't let them be that close. At that realization, Faramir couldn't stop himself from shuddering lightly.

Aragorn paused, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, of course not, Sire." Faramir hastened to assure the King. Then, Faramir realized that 'Sire' was not only an honorific appropriate to a King, but also a synonym for father, and he blanched again.

"Faramir." Aragorn called softly. Faramir made sure to banish all thoughts of Aragorn being his father from his mind, and think only on his lesser worry for the King's reaction to the cliff incident. Then he looked up to meet Aragorn's eyes, and what he saw made Faramir immediately reproach himself.

"You know that I would never be cruel to you, no matter how you have erred?" Aragorn reassured him softly. And Faramir could see the fear in the King's eyes, the fear of letting power twist him, as it had his long-father Isildur. It was a fear that Faramir had always shared, in respect of becoming like the worst of Denethor. They had spoken of it, on several dark, gray nights.

"I know that you would not, Aragorn." Faramir reassured his King, using the man's name, as Aragorn preferred when they were in private, for the first time that day. "It is the loss of your good opinion which I fear, and not your wrath."

At that, the King rolled his eyes again, and reached up to tug on a lock of Faramir's red-gold hair. "Don't think like a fool, then. After everything we have been through together, and all I have seen of you, I cannot imagine ever thinking aught but that you are one of the best men I have ever known. Despite your being entirely too inclined towards somberness, and to sneaky, quiet sarcasm, besides."

Faramir couldn't hide a slight, relieved smile. "You've gotten that foul mint sludge into my hair, Sire."

Aragorn chuckled at that, and the mood was successfully lightened. After a few more moments, Aragorn finished with the mint salve. He wiped his hands with a towel, before patting Faramir's good shoulder reassuringly. "Thank you. We will have to talk more later about how to best strengthen your shoulder. But we'll have the winter to have you do strengthening exercises and ensure that you are strong enough for the field come the spring."

Faramir sighed. His King had a great deal more enthusiasm for arms practice than Faramir himself had. Fortunately, Aragorn was fairly easy to distract. All that Faramir needed to point out was that so-and-so speech, or paperwork had to be finished, or such-and-such petition read, before the 'morrow. If it was either Faramir's responsibility or Aragorn's, and it was one of those days when Aragorn couldn't abide looking at another scroll, the King would usually excuse his Steward. Although not without some reluctance.

Without even being asked, at least not that Faramir could tell, Legolas got up to help Aragorn wrap Faramir's shoulder, and assist the Steward back into his discarded shirt. It made Faramir wonder how many centuries Legolas had spent occasionally serving as physician's assistant, to one of Lord Elrond's sons or another. Legolas, for his part, took a moment to gently trace one of the long scars on Faramir's back, and ask, "Who did this?"

Faramir shuddered. That most prominent of his scars he knew all too well. The answer was Lord Denethor's traitorous treasurer, the first time, and a Haradrim torturer, the second.

"Our Faramir has been remarkably close-mouthed, about that." Aragorn replied for Faramir, his tone displeased but resigned. Even tolerant, or perhaps reluctantly admiring, of his Steward's stubbornness.

"The malefactor is not in a position to harm any of his Majesty's subjects," Faramir informed Legolas quietly, without meeting the elf's bright blue eyes, "So it is not particularly relevant."

"Or, in another words," Aragorn remarked wryly, "Faramir has maintained that since I am not his father, I have no need to be informed of that particular detail of his personal history."

"Oh, well that's..." Legolas began helpfully. Faramir stepped on the elf's booted foot. Hard.

"My apologies, Prince Legolas." Faramir offered, his tone sincere but his gaze firm and reproaching as he met Legolas' eyes just out of the King's eye line.

Legolas was completely unabashed. He narrowed his eyes at Faramir, and if they hadn't been interrupted by Gimli's clearing his throat, Faramir wasn't sure what the elven Prince would have said. As it was, Legolas merely glared right back at Faramir, and remarked levelly, "Oh, well I'm sure that Faramir will change his mind WITHIN A FEW MONTHS, once he gets to know you better."

Faramir glared back, and Aragorn replied exasperatedly, "I'm afraid not, Legolas. Faramir has given his uncle much the same response, and if Imrahil cannot convince him to see sense than I doubt that you or I will have better luck."

It did not take much perception to realize that Legolas was extremely annoyed with Faramir, but his hands helping Faramir to re-dress were still gentle.

"Now," Aragorn began sternly, turning to regard both Faramir and Legolas, "What IS IT that the two of you did?"

"It was my fault, Sire...er, my King." Faramir immediately began.

"The command was yours." Aragorn agreed, not unkindly. "So the ultimate fault would be, as well."

Faramir began the tale from when he and Legolas had set out with their smaller scouting party. He did not spare any of the details, not even Gimli's observations or his own as to what could have happened had luck not been with them. The expression on Aragorn's face grew darker and darker as the story continued, and Legolas winced here and there. Faramir thought that he observed a flash of what might have been respect in Gimli's eyes, but he wasn't sure.

After Faramir had finished his account, Aragorn was completely silent for several long moments. Faramir didn't think that was a good sign. By his sudden squirming, Faramir gathered that Legolas didn't, either.

"Have the two of you completely taken leave of your senses?" Aragorn finally managed, his tone quiet but cutting. His attention moved then to Legolas. The King of Men stalked towards the Crown Prince of the Wood, in a manner that reminded Faramir a bit of his lost older brother. Boromir would have yelled a lot more, but Aragorn's quietly grabbing Legolas' shoulders and berating him intently was just as effective, if not more so, in Faramir's opinion. Faramir also thought that it was a little bit ironic for Aragorn to criticize anyone for recklessness, he who had escorted the ringbearer and his companions alone through the wilderness, and faced the Nazgul, all when he was already the one and only heir of Isildur.

Gimli evidently thought so too. The dwarf's eyes narrowed then, and he interrupted the King without a shred of hesitation, protesting that Legolas already understood his error and didn't need Aragorn to berate him further.

That gave the King pause, but only long enough to turn his attention to Faramir, who swallowed nervously.

"The most likely outcome of your idiocy was for you to break your own fool neck, Faramir. You do know that, don't you?"

"I...I know." Faramir managed, over the lump in his throat. Aragorn was angrier than Faramir could ever remember having seeing him.

"And do you know," Aragorn continued, in that same intense, quiet voice, "That yours was the most difficult healing I have ever managed?"

Faramir shook his head.

"Well, it was. And that makes me wonder, why did I even bother to save your life, if you plan on risking it so foolishly!" The King's voice had become a roar.

"That's more than enough, Aragorn!" Gimli interrupted again. "They both know that what they did was foolish in the extreme. There's no sense yelling at them further."

"Oh, and I'm sure that you responded with calmness and clarity to your elfling's and my Steward's sincere attempt at suicide!" Aragorn snapped back.

"No, I didna, as well you could imagine." The the dwarf narrowed his eyes again at the King, "But then I didna manage a similar feat when I was a youth of about your Faramir's age." At that, Gimli winked at Legolas, who had shared that story with them yesterday.

Legolas relaxed a bit. Faramir stared at the dwarf in wonder. The Steward envied Legolas such a powerful protector, although he had not envied the young prince having to deal with his angered guardian, the day before.

Aragorn's jaw dropped, and he stared at Gimli in astonishment for a moment. Then the King snorted in reluctant humor, putting a fond arm around Legolas' shoulders in apology for his earlier anger. "Aye, true enough, I did, in my day. As I recall correctly, we did not sit comfortably for some time after my brothers were through with us, eh Legolas?"

Legolas blushed and mumbled something indistinct which sounded like agreement.

"Now," Aragorn began, much more calmly, "Please do explain to me, Legolas, how you have managed not to learn your lesson? After all, surely the Quest and your many centuries as a warrior have taught you the value of not risking your life so very recklessly?"

The elven archer looked down in shame. Faramir felt an unaccountable rush of anger.

"It doesn't seem to require much explanation, to me." Faramir interrupted sharply, "During the Quest, it was assumed to be reasonable - even necessary - for Legolas to fight rather than retreat, even when facing overwhelming numbers. And during the late war, to climb the back of a mumak in the middle of fierce fighting, in order to relieve the enemy of its heaviest cavalry. I could go on, and perhaps mention the desperation of having someone so young - no disrespect intended, Prince Legolas - fighting beside the heir of Isildur, and commanding troops, let alone standing as the champion of his people on a Quest which everyone thought to be a suicide mission. And yet you wonder, you who are well into the wisdom of middle age, why Legolas would be confused as to the standards of what is reckless and what is necessary? Anyone who is not a hypocrite should understand why he is confused, when the standards he was held to were always ridiculously, nigh unachievably, high!"

Aragorn was quiet, Faramir thought the quiet of shock. Legolas seemed taken aback, and again less than grateful for Faramir's assistance. Gimli seemed...well, he seemed almost as if he agreed with Faramir, at least in part.

Faramir himself was horrified at the temerity of having spoken in such a disrespectful manner to his King. "Your Majesty, I beg your pardon for my loose tongue, I don't know what I was thinking..."

The King held up a hand to cut Faramir off. "You have my pardon for your tone, Faramir. Your honest sharing of your opinion, while unfavorable to me, requires no apology. I would have you speak your mind, even if it is not something I would want to hear. But in this case I think that it is you who is operating from an incorrect set of assumptions. Legolas completely understands that some horrible risks were necessary during the war, which are no longer necessary now, do you not, Legolas?"

Legolas appeared confused and perhaps a bit embarrassed. "None of those things which I have been called upon to do were excessive, none of the expectations I have tried my poor best to meet as a commander and a soldier, none of them ever been excessively high."

Faramir couldn't restrain himself from making a gesture at Aragorn, lifting up his hand and flaring his fingers in a way which meant 'See? See? I told you so.'

For his part, the King sighed heavily, and with a very compassionate, affectionate look towards Legolas, he simply said, "Ah. Well, perhaps it is time and passed that we discuss differing standards now that the war has been won, and we have the luxury of time in which to consider how our strategies might best be laid."

"But Aragorn, I told you that..."

"Hush, laddie." Gimli said gently, "Your old friend speaks sense.

"High praise, from you, Gimli." Aragorn teased Gimli, before turning to Faramir. "And, I think, the same discussion would be valuable for you, as well, my Steward."

Faramir shook his head, "I am of age and past. I should have kept a cooler head."

Aragorn simply raised an eyebrow, "I've seen your military record. Interesting reading, with occasional intriguing gaps. But it is quite clear that you were stationed in Ithilien when you weren't quite sixteen years of age. I think it would be hypocritical not to recognize that you, too, could suffer from a bit of confusion, over which expectations are fair, and which situations are inappropriately reckless."

"Perhaps." Faramir conceded, after a long sigh.

Aragorn's expression turned serious again, but not so angry as he had been previously. With another fond look for Legolas, and a softer look for Faramir as well, the King began, "Still, that being said, I can't believe your folly. What were you thinking?" Without waiting for a reply, Aragorn continued, "I can't believe that you did that. Well, of Legolas I can believe it - no offense intended, Legolas - but Faramir, I would have expected better judgment from you."

"I am sorry, my King." Faramir replied humbly, "I have already spoken with my rangers about what would have been better courses of action, and I will do my best not to make the same errors again."

Aragorn snorted in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I am glad for that, at the least. The King ran a hand through his hair again, and rubbed at his temples. "What conclusions did you reach, pray tell?"

Faramir explained his conclusions, as he had discussed with his rangers. He continued, "And I could have - should have - grabbed Legolas away and perhaps sent the others to dive, were they to volunteer. Legolas and I should have returned to the main body to alert them. The party as a whole could have moved faster through the forest, on the way to the bandits' camp."

Aragorn nodded gravely, while Legolas squawked in indignant protest. "You couldn't have stopped me, Faramir. Aragorn never could, and the two of you are very much alike, for good reason after all."

Gimli got up from his seat, and went over to sit by Legolas with a warning look for the elf. "Faramir won't have to stop you from doing foolish things. You're not going bandit scouting with just Faramir and the rangers for company again, not for quite some time. And you'll watch your tongue, my lad, unless you want us to leave this discussion early."

Faramir cleanly changed the subject, "Obviously you're not helping your case here, Legolas. Being truthful does not require full disclosure of all of your thoughts at all times. Sometimes, it would be better to keep your reflections- and your future plans - to yourself."

"I prefer that my elfling speak his mind." Gimli disagreed, "Then at least I'll know what to expect in the future."

Annoyed, Legolas objected, "Well, you're not letting me speak my mind now."

Gimli rolled his eyes, "Hush, Legolas. This is your last warning."

Aragorn was clearly confused by the byplay between Gimli and Legolas, but he let it go to turn to Faramir, weighing the Steward with a narrow, considering look. "Faramir, I find that I like less your circumspect manner of speaking and your convoluted way of thinking when it is directed towards covering your own past recklessness, and your own - and others -future plans for idiotic behavior, than when it is directed towards maneuvering my lords of the council and my stodgier generals."

"I have no current plans to engage in further recklessness, your Majesty." Faramir assured the King.

Aragorn sighed, "You're not helping your own case, my Steward. You do not speak to your future plans."

Feeling rather reckless himself, and continuing to try to create distance between himself and the King, Faramir said lightly, "Who can tell what the future may bring?"

Aragorn stared at his Steward in shock for a moment, "Are you TRYING to test my patience today, Faramir?"

"I do not think so, my King." Faramir replied. After all, creating distance was a bit different than trying to test the King's patience.

Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. "That is well for you, then, because we have yet to decide what the proper consequences are for your errors this day. I presume," Aragorn said, looking to Gimli, "That Legolas has already paid the price for his involvement." At Gimli's firm nod, Aragorn turned back to Faramir again.

"I am your disposal, my King." Faramir said quietly, looking quite pale.

Aragorn sighed. "Calm yourself, Faramir. Your late father was in many ways a good Steward, but I would never punish well-meaning errors as harshly as he did. Not only is the very idea abhorrent to me, particularly in the case of an exceptionally dutiful young officer and prince such as yourself, but my wife would never forgive me for it."

Legolas grinned. "You can say that again. Arwen would skin you alive. Besides, we would never let you get away with that, anyway. That's what friends are for."

"The lad has the right of that." Gimli agreed, his dark eyes glinting. .

"Do you two MIND?" Aragorn complained, but there was no heat to his tone, and he smiled as he said it. The whole exchange made Faramir relax, somewhat.

The King's attention returned to Faramir. Aragorn considered him intently for a few moments. Then the King began, "I am in favor of punishing Faramir as I imagine that Legolas was punished. I would in addition put Faramir to the task of reviewing tactics for skirmishes in that type of terrain, save that Faramir had already recognized his errors and developed sensible plans to amend them in the future."

 

"My King, I...I failed you more greatly than did Prince Legolas." Faramir protested reluctantly, "He is your friend and ally rather than your subject, and his youth excuses his actions to some extent. I have no such excuse, and I failed the great trust that you put in me, placing my men and your friends in greater jeopardy by doing so."

"And yourself." Aragorn added gravely.

Faramir blinked, confused, "Pardon?

"You placed yourself in great danger as well, Faramir lad. Aragorn doesn't approve of that, nor do I." Gimli pointed out patiently.

"Yes. I...I feel that I deserve the same punishment which would routinely be applied under our military regulations, for a mistake of this gravity by a commanding officer of my seniority." Faramir unhappily insisted.

Aragorn shook his head, "Yet I do not agree, Faramir. You are older than Legolas, yes, in relativistic terms." Aragorn placed a fond hand upon Legolas shoulder, squeezing gently. "But you are still quite young, Faramir, and unaccustomed to your new status and the changed strategic situation in Gondor. Your error was well-meaning, albeit significant. I would deal with this as a private matter, Faramir."

Aragorn moved to put his other hand on the Steward's shoulder, "I am not your kinsman, save very distantly. But I am quite fond of you, and I did promise my dear friend your uncle Imrahil that I would have a care for you. If you would permit, I will act in his stead. I think that he would warm your bottom thoroughly for you, as I intend to do. But I am quite sure that he would not submit you to official military discipline. Nor do I intend to."

"It was a military mistake, Sire, and not an insignificant one." Faramir insisted stubbornly, "I esteem you highly, but I am not honored to bear the status of your kinsman." And Faramir did not want to let the King spank him. Being put over the King's knee would be entirely too intimate. It would be far better, if far more painful, to insist that the letter of the law be followed. A birch wielded by one of Faramir's military superiors would hurt more than a spanking, but it would be far less confusing.

It was Legolas who responded to Faramir's objection with his own. Eyes narrowed, the elven Prince said threateningly, "You dance a very fine line with your words, Faramir, son of Finduilas." Turning to Aragorn, Legolas said loudly, "I think that it would be quite fitting for you to treat Faramir as a father would his son, Estel.

Faramir gave the elf a hurt, disbelieving look, before insisting stubbornly, "It would not be fitting."

Legolas opened his mouth to reply despite Gimli's warning growl. Gimli responded by taking ahold of the elf's bicep, "Legolas, come with me. We need to have a little talk about discretion."

As he was pulled away from the room, Legolas protested, "But I AM being discrete..."

Aragorn turned to Faramir, his face a curious mix of humor, worry, exasperation, and curiosity, "I don't suppose you know what that is all about?"

Faramir carefully suppressed his thoughts on that point, before answering, "Nothing worth mentioning."

Taking a deep breath, Faramir firmly insisted, "Your Majesty, an exception from the normal military regulations for my misdeeds could arguably be justified by custom. But as I am your Steward and an officer of the crown, I think that some higher standard must apply. I do not feel comfortable with your making an exception from our laws in my case. I think it only fitting that your Majesty should punish me in accordance with our laws and regulations regarding a significant lapse in judgment by a senior captain."

After considering Faramir quietly for a moment, Aragorn asked gently, "Will you not trust me to deal with you as I see fit, as your friend as well as your King?"

Faramir was unwilling to budge. "It is not my right to be treated as your kin, my King."

The King pulled a hand through his hair and rubbed his temples, as if he were developing a headache. Then Aragorn reluctantly conceded, "If you insist, Faramir, since I have not the right to order you to let me deal with you as I would my own." The King sighed, obviously troubled and grieved. "Go to your chambers. You are to bathe and have a light meal. Return to me here in two hours' time."

"Here, to you?" Faramir replied in surprise, "Not to the office of the Captain - General or one of his deputies?"

"Here, to me." The King confirmed, "Mine will be the hand which wields the birch, since you stubbornly insist on forcing me to punish you thusly."

Faramir forgot for a moment that he was trying to create distance between them, and asked uncertainly, half to himself, "Are you so very angry with me, Aragorn?"

Aragorn looked up from his desk, where he had moved after dismissing his Steward. "No, I am not angry with you, Faramir. Not at all. You serve me well, my young friend, and I would not happily entrust your care to another, be it to heal your hurts or to discipline you for your rare serious missteps."

"I thank you, my King," Faramir managed, continuing with an embarrassed, self-deprecating smile, "Although I think I shall not still be thanking you, in two hours time."

With a sympathetic smile, Aragorn replied, "Probably not. But I myself was birched many a time during my misspent youth. So I can say with some certainty that you will surely survive, you stubborn child."

XXXXX

Aragorn POV

Aragorn sighed, putting his head in his hands on top of his desk. His Steward and friend richly deserved to be punished for his folly of the previous day. Aragorn's heart clenched again at the thought of losing Faramir and Legolas. But the King had no desire to birch his Steward, let alone the twenty-four strokes which were the minimum official penalty for Faramir's errors.

Aragorn slapped a palm down on his desk, then got up to go seek out his old friends and companions of the Quest. He found them in their suite, and to his relief, relatively at peace with oneanother, although Legolas was still giving Gimli the occasional frustrated looks.

"I would like to ask you both a favor." Aragorn said softly.

"Anything, my friend. You know that." Legolas offered immediately.

Aragorn smiled gratefully back, "I would like to ask one- or both - of you to go and see that Faramir bathes and eats and to keep him calm. And to have him drink this just before I send for him in an hour and a half. It is a very mild sedative and pain killer. He seems close to overwrought. I must punish him, I must birch the foolish youth since he will insist on the letter of the law and no mercy for himself. But I do not wish him to be unable to sleep after, or in too much pain.

Legolas and Gimli were both staring at him, and Aragorn realized that they were both angry. He was about to protest that, because of the importance of Faramir's position, he couldn't just order the young Steward to accept mercy. Then Aragorn realized, his old friends were not angry with HIM.


	5. Chapter 5

[Legolas POV, following Gimli’s removing them from the conference between King and Steward]

"But I AM being discrete..."  
Gimli snorted and closed the door firmly behind them, fairly hustling Legolas down the hallway.

 

“Gimli.”

“Keep your tongue between your teeth laddie, at least until we are somewhere more private than this.” The dwarf growled.  
Giving up on battling what was in real terms the irresistible force of a determined dwarf, Legolas allowed himself to be towed along and finally found himself pushed into one the suite of rooms that they had shared during their previous visit, which was mercifully empty of well-meaning Citadel staff.

“Now sit ye down and take a few deep breaths before ye blow your top completely.” Gimli advised.

“I was not going to blow my top; I just think that Aragorn deserves to know the truth.”

“I don’t deny that lamb, the truth needs to come out for everyone’s sake. But recall lad, we only have one man’s word that this is fact, it may prove to be a story and nothing more.”

“It is true Gimli, I know it; I feel it, for almost as long as we have known Faramir I have sensed some connection between the two of them, I just did not realize what it was.” He shrugged, “I thought it was because of Boromir... now …” he shook his head and looked back at the door, and then he raised his eyes to his friend seeking reassurance and comfort for a situation that was beyond his understanding. “How could anyone have done such a thing to those he was supposed to have loved so well?”

“Eh lad, it is beyond me, no dwarf no matter how desperate would consider such a wicked thing, ye are certain the link ye sense is that if father and son?”

“I am convinced of it, Aragorn needs to be told.”

“And I agree with ye, but it is not our tale to tell.”

It was Legolas’ turn to snort, as he gestured to the closed door, and beyond, “and you think Faramir will tell it. He did not seem inclined to do, you heard what he said, how he sought to avoid Aragorn even when he was only offering him healing.”

“Faramir is hurting laddie, and confused, let us give him a little more time to speak up.

“And if he does not do so?”

“Then we must.”

Elf and dwarf lapsed into silence. Legolas, satisfied with that answer from his hirsute guardian, retreated to the window. Gimli gnawed on a finger nail and muttered into his beard.  
Letting his head fall back against the smooth granite lintel Legolas opened himself to the song, trying to settle his thoughts and feelings but found that his mind kept returning to the room further down the hallway and the two mortals within it that he cared about. Would Faramir be able to bring himself to speak of what he had learned?

The Prince of Ithilien was a complex individual, a consummate warrior with a love of lore, and the far sight a true son of Númenor, but he was as stubborn as a mule and the manner of his upbringing had, had a profound effect on him. Boromir had spoken of the fact that Lord Denethor had been an exacting parent, but harder on his brother he had added sadly than on himself. He had never been able to understand why Faramir was less appreciated than he, and had done his best to compensate for what he considered to be their father’s unfairness, now it seemed there may have been a reason for this difference.  
Had Denethor known or suspected the truth about the antecedents of his second son, it would explain much although why Denethor had felt it necessary to take out his fury on an innocent child Legolas could not guess.

It was no wonder that Faramir was uncertain about telling Aragorn the truth, his experience of parenting was not a positive one; he must fear what the outcome would be when the facts were known.  
Legolas had no such doubts; his friend would be shocked, horrified about what had been done, he might also experience a sense of betrayal for Legolas knew that Aragorn had been very fond of Ecthelion, to find that he had been used in such a vile manner would be difficult to hear but one thing the elf was certain of, Aragorn would not turn away from Faramir, rather he would offer the younger man his love and support, he would make a good father, even of an unexpected fully grown very stubborn son.

And Faramir would blossom under that love, he needed it so badly, Legolas had seen the way the Gondorian looked upon his and Gimli’s relationship, he obviously envied their closeness. Although Legolas’ own opinion was that his relationship with his dwarf was occasionally ‘too’ close for his own particular comfort!  
Legolas snorted and hastily turned it into a cough when Gimli looked up a question in his eyes over such unexpected levity.

“I was just thinking,” he explained making Gimli look even more suspicious if that was possible and causing him to growl, ‘well that makes a change’.

Ignoring this sally Legolas went back to brooding about Faramir, the man was a puzzle, both needful but also with a tendency to lecture others over their rash behavior and then put it down to their ‘youth’ was the Gondorian not still young?

Legolas would have sympathized and supported Faramir in his objection to Aragorn’s assumptions about him had the man not given the appearance of agreeing with Estel over the elf’s immaturity and then giving the impression that he thought he might have been able to prevent Legolas from jumping from the bridge, there were few with that kind of influence over him and Faramir did not come into that category not by a long way.

Thinking over those that might have that right, brought to mind the fact that Aragorn believed that he had the right to make the kind of comment that said ‘Yes, 'Las, I know that you were involved, you're always involved’ as if he was an elfling still and he had the right to scold him.

Why would he not be involved, he thought furiously he was a warrior of the Woodland Realm, raised to protect his land and his folk, trained to the highest standards by his trainers in Eryn Lasgalen and was he not now a Prince of Gondor too, given his own fiefdom in Ithilien by Aragorn himself? Was it not his responsibility to protect the people and the land that had adopted him?  
He had taken an oath of fealty to Gondor and it would shame him and his father should he not live up to that oath why could others not see that?

Yet thinking that he could see and sympathize with Faramir as well, the steward found himself in an invidious position, he had taken an oath to protect the king and perhaps he feared that should the information that the servant had spoken of become public knowledge it would place the crown in difficulty. Faramir had been raised to place Gondor first, he had welcomed the return of the king; he would do nothing to put that return in doubt even if it meant denying himself a happier more loving future and involved him taking on a punishment that he was not deserving of.

“Ai, foolish, foolish mortal”

“I trust those words are not aimed at me laddie?”

Legolas unaware that he had voiced his thoughts out loud, flushed and hurried to deny any such intention, then added, “I was just thinking of Faramir and his stubborn determination to take a birching. What is the tariff here Gimli do you know?”

The dwarf nodded, “Aye, for the kind of failure that Faramir has admitted to it is twenty four strokes.”

Legolas paled, “we cannot allow that Gimli.”

Gimli came across to the window and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I share your disgust Lamb; it is not a punishment that is either fitting or needful. I am sure Aragorn will do his best to dissuade Faramir from insisting upon such an ordeal.”

Legolas drew in a sharp breath and then said determinedly, “and if he cannot then mayhap if I insist on accepting a similar penalty as a Lord of Gondor and as an active participant and someone who has had more years in the field than Faramir maybe I can persuade him that such stubbornness is beyond what is acceptable.”

“You will do nothing of the kind Lamb.”

“But I am of equal rank and have a similar responsibility to Gondor as Faramir does. Faramir must see that if he insists on being punished in such a manner then Aragorn must administer the same to me. It might help to persuade him to accept the lesser chastisement do you not agree?”

Gimli looked thoughtful, “I do not like it, but it might just work, although ye will not go through with such a scheme”

“But …”

But whatever arguments Legolas was about to put forward were silenced by the arrival of Aragorn himself

"I would like to ask you both a favor." He said softly.

Gimli looked thoughtful, “I do not like it, but it might just work, although ye will not go through with such a scheme”  
“But …”

But whatever arguments Legolas was about to put forward were silenced by the arrival of Aragorn himself

"I would like to ask you both a favor." He said softly prompting Legolas to respond that he would do anything for his friend. But he listened to Aragorn’s request to calm and help Faramir with a growing sense of irritation at both King and steward. Gimli’s hand on his arm kept him quiet however until Aragorn himself fell silent then words burst forth from him as if he could no longer keep them inside.

“You should not allow it” he stormed, “It is not right, not seemly …”

“Legolas believe me I do not wish to use such a punishment on Faramir but I have no choice in the matter.”

“Of course you do, would you treat a member of your family in such a fashion because …”

“Laddie” Gimli’s growl reminded the elf that he had promised he would try and persuade Faramir to tell the truth to his father one more time before breaking the news himself.

“Legolas,” Aragorn smiled sadly “I would not treat anyone in this way could it be avoided, I would that you could persuade Faramir to reconsider his determination but if you cannot …” His words were cut off without apology as Legolas snapped

“And if I cannot then you will have two Lords of Gondor to birch. I am equally to blame for the decisions made back at the waterfall, do not interrupt me Estel.” He ordered as Aragorn opened his mouth to speak. “Despite your determination to forget these facts I am both yours and Faramir’s elder in years and a more experienced field captain than either of you. What is more I swore an oath of allegiance when you offered me a fiefdom in Ithilien, and while my colony has not yet been set up I am still considered to be a Prince of this land and a commander of your forces in Northern Ithilien, you made me so yourself, so if you insist on carrying out the punishment on Faramir you cannot without forfeiting your own honor refuse to do the same with me.”  
He watched as a Aragorn stunned by this lengthy and determined speech turned to Gimli for support.

“Gimli”

“The elfling has a point, laddie, not that I will be allowing him to follow through on such foolishness, since he has already paid the price for his lack of caution or common sense.” He added wiping the smirk from Legolas’ face with this final stricture. “But it might serve to give Faramir pause and get him to accept your offer of an alternative penalty which would serve all of our purposes. Come lamb there is no time like the present to try and talk some sense into that hard headed son of Gondor.”

“Perhaps I should …” Legolas hesitated wondering if instead of trying to talk Faramir round it would not be better to just tell Aragorn what they knew.

“No that you should not” Gimli growled, “I have told ye; it is not our tale to tell.”

And leaving a confused and confounded king behind them he hurried Legolas out of the door and towards Faramir’s apartments.

They found the steward standing on his balcony that overlooked the courtyard of the White Tree, even from the doorway Legolas could feel the state of tension that thrummed through his friend. Faramir’s shoulders were rigid; his hands which were clasped behind his back showed his knuckles were white.

“Faramir, mellon-nin”

Faramir turned at the sound of the elf’s voice and he managed a rather strained smile of welcome for his friends.

“Aragorn wished us to make sure you had something to eat and wanted you to try and rest lad” Gimli put a companionable hand on the arm of the younger man.

“Rest?” the snort that accompanied this one word was redolent of the unlikeliness of that happening in the next age or more.

“Aye, well if that is the truth, then there is only one here who has brought this situation upon himself, Aragorn offered ye a better way lad, and ye wouldn’a take it.”

“I couldn’t take it!”

“Why?” Legolas demanded anger showing at the man’s intransigence.

“I am a Captain of Gondor, when I fail in my duty to my king, I must expect to pay the same penalty as any other member of the Gondorian Guard, it would not be seemly to do otherwise, nor would it be honorable.”

Legolas looked across to his guardian and received a nod, “then I have to tell you that if you insist on accepting the usual punishment then I will be called upon to receive the same penalty.”  
Faramir looked aghast, “Surely not!”

The elven prince shrugged an elegant shoulder, “I am as much a Captain of Gondor as you my friend, and a prince of Ithilien, do you count my honor less than your own. If you insist upon this course then I will be forced to do likewise.”

Faramir slumped, “the king has said this?”

Again Legolas looked towards the dwarf, before saying, “Aragorn would prefer to administer a lesser punishment, one he has already detailed to you.”

“A spanking I think not.”

“I do not see why not,” Legolas responded “there is no shame in such a punishment, not when it is done out of love and care for the person involved.”  
“He is the king”

“He is your father” Legolas averred. “And it is more than time to tell him so.”

Faramir’s eyes flashed fire, “I will not do so.”

“Then if you do not I will.”

“Or there may be no need for either of ye to do it,” Gimli who had kept quiet through much of the exchange now stepped away from the doorway and as elf and man turned towards him they saw silhouetted in the door the king.  
xxxx  
[Gimli POV]  
…so if you insist on carrying out the punishment on Faramir you cannot without forfeiting your own honor refuse to do the same with me.”

Legolas was clearly as disgusted with the king as he had earlier been with the steward, and Gimli could not deny that the lad had had to put up with a fair share of insults during the course of the afternoon, though he was equally certain that neither had meant offense by his words. Still Aragorn could have been more sensitive to the fact that Legolas would not like to be set apart because of his relative youth as if Faramir’s error had been a military blunder and Legolas’ a childish misstep. Though the dwarf fully agreed with Faramir’s assessment that Legolas had been held to standards that were far and away above what was right and fair for one who was considered to be a minor by his own kind, Gimli would have known better than to discuss such things right to the lad’s face. There was such a thing as respect and propriety left in the world after all! And now the king stared at him expectantly as if he knew Gimli would agree with his point of view that the elf should not be treated as Faramir’s equal in this situation.  
Well he certainly did not agree! And yet he wouldn’t say he thought Legolas should be subjected to harsh military discipline either. The very idea made him quite ill in fact. He hadn’t done anything so terrible as to be deserving of such treatment and neither had Faramir.

The whole situation was ludicrous as far as the dwarf was concerned. It had been a silly, knee jerk reaction that would have been common to a youngster of any race -a childish error that was easily corrected with a few well-placed swats and some choice words. Both had quickly understood their error in strategy as soon as it had been pointed out, so what was the point of all this talk of honor and rank and field experience? Why on Arda was anyone even mentioning tariffs and birching and pain relieving tea? This was what became of allowing children to be involved in adult pursuits as elves and men were evidently both inclined to do. If Faramir hadn’t been an active soldier as a smooth faced boy of sixteen, he wouldn’t now be a high-ranking officer facing military discipline for youthful mistakes. And by all that was right, Legolas should have never been out from under his father’s watchful eye, let alone taking part in hopeless missions such as the recent quest to destroy the ring-or jumping bridges to slaughter bandits who made it a habit to kidnap and violate women. The thing was ridiculous. No dwarf would ever behave in such an insane fashion as to put their young in such jeopardy. Immaturity was a danger in itself and young ones needed to be protected from their own youthful folly.

Well he recalled his own disappointment in being denied his wish to take part in the quest for Erebor at a time when his elders considered him too young. He had been well past his majority at the time too and yet he was expected to abide by their decision. He had not liked it at the time, but his opinion had not been considered. He could see now that it had been the right thing for the elders to decide. Not that he denied that both Legolas and Faramir were skilled warriors-he had been skilled himself at a very young age-but that was hardly the point.  
Of course he could not say any of this as there likely wasn’t a soul in the city who would have agreed with him. Besides it didn’t matter anyway. What was done was done. Right now all he could do was try his best to diffuse the situation, starting with answering the Kind’s questioning look.  
“The elfling has a point, laddie, not that I will be allowing him to follow through on such foolishness, since he has already paid the price for his lack of caution or common sense.”  
Aragorn scowled openly and Legolas dropped the satisfied smirk from his face that had appeared there at Gimli’s opening words of support. There! Now no one was happy! Things could only get better from here.

Only things did not get better, but continued the downward spiral when Gimli hustled Legolas toward the stewards chambers to try their plan to force him into accepting a lesser penalty. As soon as Faramir claimed that to do so would be dishonorable, Gimli knew he was in for a real fight. The words were an insult to his elf, as if Legolas had a cravenly accepted the less honorable sentence or was too young or too frail to endure the harsher one. If the elfling had been bluffing before, Gimli knew he was in earnest now when he insisted on being treated in the same manner that Faramir would be treated.  
He could also see that Faramir felt ill over the elf’s determination to do so. Clearly he hadn’t expected this turn of events. Still he didn’t back down immediately and Gimli began to worry that Faramir would hold his ground and the dwarf would end up spending the evening tending to the judicially inflicted cuts and abrasions of his beloved charge even though the lad had already suffered plenty of discomfort over the last day and a half.

Surely Aragorn would not go through with it, but with the crazy way everyone was acting, he did not feel he could take the chance. No matter his promises to Faramir, he would have to put an end to this ruse before it got more out of hand than it already had. Gimli prided himself on taking his oaths seriously, but this was a special case and Aragorn was going to find out at some point anyway. He was not willing to see his elfling suffer just to postpone the inevitable and give Faramir more time to sulk and ponder. The idea was unthinkable. He would just have to tell Aragorn the truth.

But as luck would have it, he did not have to. Just as he was turning back to search for the King, he heard his friend coming up behind him. Seeing the argument that was taking place between the elf and the young man, Aragorn started to intervene, but Gimli put out a staying hand and nodded toward the pair, indicating that his friend should listen. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the real issue presented itself and save him from having to break any promises he had made to Faramir. Sympathy caused him to squeeze the King’s shoulder kindly as if he were offering his condolences for some bad news he was about to receive. Aragorn looked puzzled but did not interfere with the argument that was growing more heated by the second and then finally it came.

“He is the king,” Faramir ground out through clenched teeth as the answer to why he could not go along with what his friends were suggesting.  
“He is your father” Legolas spat, equally as determinedly, “And it is more than time to tell him so!”

Gimli glanced cautiously at the King and saw that the puzzled expression had not left his face. If anything he seemed even more confused, as if what he was hearing didn’t add up. But Gimli’s concerned expression and Faramir’s terrified one must have proven to him that he had heard the elf correctly after all for he suddenly went very pale.

“What does this mean?” Aragorn croaked. Gimli pulled a chair forward in case his friend’s knees buckled. Legolas, who moments before had looked ready to throttle Faramir, now stepped forward to grip his arm to help steady the swaying young man.

Aragorn shook his head and rallied soon enough. He even managed a small laugh as he spoke again.

“I am sorry, I believe I heard you wrong. It sounded like you said…”

“Ye heard right, Lad,” Gimli assured him as he pushed his friend into the proffered chair. “Sit ye down and we’ll explain.”  
“But Gimli, I don’t think you understand,” the king tried again to explain himself. “I had to have misheard you because I thought you said…”

“I tell ye, ye didn’t mishear anything…”

“But I must have, because…”

“Estel stop interrupting!” Legolas pleaded in a tone that was a cross between nervousness and exasperation. “I swear we will explain everything, but you must shut up long enough for us to do so. Please!”

Aragorn blinked several times and then merely nodded and closed his mouth, but now that he was quiet, no one seemed to know just what to say. Gimli laid a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder and cleared his throat as if to speak, but nothing came out. Legolas, still focused on keeping Faramir upright, took a deep breath, opened his mouth, then bit his lip and shared a desperate look with the dwarf. Finally they both spoke at the same time.

“It’s like this Lad…”

“This is how it happened, Estel…”

Gimli rolled his eyes and Legolas sighed. “I will tell him, Elvellon,” the elf finally volunteered. Gimli waved his hand in a gesture that meant Legolas should feel free to take the lead, but after a couple of false starts it appeared that telling such a thing and keeping Faramir upright was too much for Legolas to manage at the same time. Gimli caught his elfling’s eye and indicated that perhaps they should trade places. Gimli hurried across the room and guided the trembling Faramir to sit on the edge of the bed. Not knowing what else to do, he clasped Faramir’s icy hand in his larger warmer one and squeezed it companionably while placing his other arm around the man’s quaking shoulders. Whether or not this was a comfort to Faramir, Gimli did not know, but he felt he had to do something.

Legolas must have felt similarly, for he knelt in front of his friend and took both of his hands before beginning his explanation. For a reckless, hotheaded lad, Giml thought his elfling did a remarkable job of explaining things as gently and softly as a such a thing could be told. Not that it softened the impact that much, but at least Aragorn did not interrupt right away. In fact it was some time after the story had ended before the king spoke at all. The room was incredibly quiet and Gimli held his breath as one emotion after another crossed his friend’s face. It was a lot to process, the dwarf knew, for it wasn’t every day a man found out that he had been betrayed by loved ones and that that betrayal had led to him suddenly gaining a grown son, a daughter in law, and very likely soon to be grandchildren. There was no way to prepare for such a revelation. It wasn’t something taught in any classroom or training manual. How would anyone know how to react in such a situation? Still the dwarf was taken aback by Aragorn’s first words.

“When exactly did you plan to tell me, Faramir?” He did not shout, but there was no doubt that the King was incensed. If possible Faramir paled even further, but he answered without so much as a quaver in his voice.

“I never intended to do so, your highness.”

Gimli wondered if he’d ever felt more like flicking someone’s ear than he did just then. Of all the suicidal answers the foolish lad could have come up with! As he predicted it did very little to improve Aragorn’s mood.

“You would keep vital information such as this from your King after having sworn allegiance to me?” Aragorn’s scowl deepened significantly, but Faramir was not overly concerned if his imprudent answer was anything to go by.

“In most cases I would not, but in this case I thought it best…”

“You thought it best did you?” the king raised his voice causing Faramir to cringe, though he nodded again in answer.

Aragorn was livid. He leapt to his feet bellowing, “Well let me remind you, you little fool, that is not your position to decide what the king may know and what he may not know. You forget your place Faramir! Is your word of honor no better than that?”

Gimli felt Faramir stiffen at the harsh words and decided it was time he put his two cents in..

“Take it easy on the boy, my friend, and Recall that the news came as a shock to him as well and he has had only a day longer than you have to mull it over.”

“It is so, Estel,” Legolas put in, in spite of the fact that he had been so recently annoyed himself with Faramir, “you can hardly expect him to be thinking rationally considering the circumstances.”

Aragorn looked from one serious face to the other, then turned his back before letting out a long shuddering breath. When he turned around again, he looked more like himself, though his hands still trembled.

“Of course you are right,” Aragorn admitted, “Forgive me, Faramir. And both of you must also excuse me, my dear friends, but I would like to speak to my steward alone.”

Both nodded, but Gimli added a stipulation. “Only if ye promise to watch your words and be nice. The Lad has had a difficult enough few days without having to listen to you bellow and roar.”

In spite of his current state of distress Aragorn couldn’t help teasing the dwarf about his protective nature, but Gimli was in earnest enough that he would not budge until he had the King’s word.

“Very well, I swear to be nice,” Aragorn promised raising a hand in oath. That was enough for Gimli, who stood up to take his leave beckoning Legolas to follow alongside him.

“That was very well done, lamb,” Gimli commended his charge once they were in the corridor.

“Do you really think so, Elvellon?”

“Of course I do,” Gimli smiled at the elfling’s pleased expression and hoped that this praise would go a ways in smoothing feather’s that had been ruffled by thoughtless words. “You were as tactful and thoughtful as possible in a very trying situation. Ye handled it better than I could have myself. I am proud of you.”

“I am glad your opinion of me is higher than Faramir’s at least,” Legolas said dryly.

“Eh now, Laddie, ye mustn’t pay any attention to any of that prattle,” Gimli reassured him, “Faramir was too upset and befuddled to know what he was saying. I feel certain that he meant no insult by what he said.”

“Then why did he say it? “ Legolas queried, and Gimli could tell he really believed the dwarf would know. “He suggested that my honor was lacking, you heard it yourself! He said it under distress, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it!”

Gimli thought carefully for a moment as he took in the stormy eyes of the troubled soul before him. The dwarf suspected that Faramir had not been thinking of anything other than how to have his own way in his desperation, but he wasn’t sure he could convince Legolas of that fact. Gimli knew that all of the elf’s bluster and anger earlier was simply a cover for hurt feelings.

“I don’t believe he thought any such thing.” Gimli answered. “ Faramir’s asking for the full military penalty had little to do with honor and much to do with what was easier for Faramir.”

Legolas looked skeptical, “How could he think that would be easier?”

“Well think about it, Lad. What Aragorn was suggesting is very personal in nature for both parties,” Gimli pointed out. “Why you even said yourself there is no shame in it if it is done out of love and care for the person involved. Receiving a birching would be more painful physically, but being taken over the king’s knee would be far more intimate. I believe it is that intimacy he is afraid of. Honor and duty and following the letter of the law have nothing to do with it.”

“I suppose you could be right,” Legolas admitted, though he still did not appear entirely certain.

“Of course I am right, my lad!” Gimli insisted, taking the arm the elf offered him, “Have I not already told ye to just assume it is always so?”


	6. Chapter 6

[Aragorn POV] 

For a long moment after his companions left, Aragorn just looked at Faramir. The King still felt off-balance, unsteady. For several long minutes he just looked at Faramir, almost as if he had never seen the younger man before. Aragorn had always been fond of Faramir, since the first time he laid eyes on him. But now, he knew why Faramir was so precious to him. He did not doubt that what Legolas had told him was true. There had been such a night, during Aragorn's last stay in Gondor. He had always thought that he had merely had to much to drink, but Faramir's birth would coincide with that day almost perfectly. For Legolas to have told Aragorn rather than just to have said that Faramir had heard such a story, then Legolas must have been sure, and elves had ways of knowing the truths of such matters. 

The King looked at Faramir and wondered how he could have been so blind as not to have seen any of it before. The red-gold hair was an inheritance from Finduilas, yes, although Faramir had inherited Aragorn's height, thankfully for him. Finduilas had been a delicate little thing. But evidently not too delicate to follow the old Lord Steward Ecthelion's lead. To betray Aragorn in one of the most intimate ways possible. To steal from him a son. And over thirty years of that son's life. 

Some of that anger must have shown in Aragorn's countenance. Faramir's eyes flashed gray fire, and Aragorn wondered how he could ever have been such a fool as to have ever thought them like unto Denethor's eyes. Denethor's fire had been cold, and Faramir's was warm, just banked. It was the same gray fire that the mirror showed Aragorn in his own eyes, and how he could not have seen that until just now, he did not know. 

 

The tension was palpable, and Aragorn knew that he would have to say something. But he had no idea what. Faramir seemed to be as overwhelmed as Aragorn, perhaps even more so. Worse yet, he seemed afraid. Despite Aragorn's own lingering frustration and hurt with Faramir, he hated that Faramir would ever be scared, let alone fearful of him. Aragorn wanted to soothe him, reassure him, at the same time as he still wanted to put Faramir over his knee and spank him for daring to keep this news to himself. Aragorn shook his head. He had a son; Faramir was his son. It still seemed barely real. Aragorn's Steward...his son, needed him, needed him to provide reassurance, to know what to say. Only Aragorn had no idea. 

 

Thankfully for both men, a gray shadow chose that moment to break the tension by leaping down from its perch on one of the room's many bookshelves. Aragorn almost jumped out of his skin, and even Faramir took a half step back. The cat - for it was one of Faramir's several felines - gave Aragorn a dubious look, then mewed in piteous reproach at Faramir. 

 

"I know that the cook has been feeding you whilst Eowyn and I have been away." Faramir told the cat gravely. "So your 'poor, starved kitty' routine has no power over me, Mithrandir." The cat almost seemed to sniff in disdain, although it did pause to rub affectionately against Faramir's dusty boot before leaving. 

 

"You named your cat 'Mithrandir?'" Aragorn asked in disbelieving amusement. 

 

Faramir looked up at him, a half-smile curving his lips. "He always seems as if he knows something which I do not." 

 

Aragorn laughed, and then it hit him with the force of a hammer-blow to his chest. "Ai, Faramir. You have my mother's smile." 

 

Faramir was clearly taken aback, unsure as to whether that was a good thing or not. Aragorn took a deep breath, and said, "Now I would have you tell me something that I do not know. Specifically, why it was that learning that I am your father was 'Nothing worth mentioning,' Faramir?" Now that the first rush of Aragorn's temper had passed, he found himself much more hurt than angry. "Tell me, is it truly so awful for you to contemplate I might be your father? So unspeakable that you had to hide it from me?" 

 

Faramir shook his head, "Nay, nay it was not that. I just thought that it was best..."

 

Aragorn held up a hand to cut that explanation off. He wanted to keep his oath to 'be nice,' and he wasn't sure that he could if Faramir kept telling him that it was best for Aragorn never to know that Faramir was his, never to acknowledge him or be given the right to protect and care for Faramir, as a father should. As infuriating as Faramir's behavior today had been, he was a good man. Aragorn couldn't think of a better son. It stung him to the core that Faramir did not seem to feel similarly. 

"I care about you greatly." Aragorn told Faramir, walking towards his Steward and putting his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "I have come to love you, my dear, difficult young Prince. I had thought that you were fond of me, as well." 

"But I am!" Faramir protested, those same gray eyes meeting Aragorn's. The King's heart softened to see such open affection in his son's eyes. Faramir continued, "I have come to love you, too, Sire. You are the best of men, and I am sure that you would be - will be - the best of fathers. But loving you, and Queen Arwen, and Gondor itself, I could not tell you!" 

Aragorn let go of Faramir's shoulder, and raised a hand to rub at his aching temples. "Before we dive into the no doubt fascinatingly convoluted logic which led you to such an idiotic conclusion," Aragorn told Faramir in exasperation, "Perhaps I should fetch Arwen. She will want to weigh in on this, as well." 

Faramir recoiled as if stung, "My King, you cannot! She will be hurt, and I would not have that. Not for anything in all of Arda!"

"She's a very intelligent woman, Faramir." Aragorn observed with wry humor, "I think that, even if we do not tell her, she will become slightly suspicious when I start calling you my son." 

"But you can't do that, either!" Faramir protested fiercely. 

Aragorn had rather lost patience with Faramir's - his son's - intransigence on that point. So, for the second time that day, he gave into his impulse and turned Faramir about, applying several swift, stinging swats to the younger man's slender bottom. Gently pulling Faramir back about to face him, Aragorn said firmly, "Do not continue to presume to tell me what I may and may not do. As your father as well as your King, you owe me your obedience." 

Faramir's gray eyes were shocked and a bit indignant, but no longer scared, which eased Aragorn's heart considerably. "My King," Faramir began again, this time in a diplomatic, almost pleading tone of voice, "I shall obey your will, but I do not wish to cause pain to you and yours, or endanger your Kingdoms, or..." 

Waving Faramir to silence again, Aragorn commanded, "We're not going to start discussing this in more depth without Arwen. We'd just have to go through it all over again. So remain here, Faramir. And do try to stay calm. I will be right back." 

With that, Aragorn gave his Steward a very firm look. Faramir nodded his agreement, although as he left Aragorn could hear his son protest, sotto voce, "Stay here? Where else would I go?" As Aragorn could also see, out of the corner of his eye, that Faramir was rubbing his sore backside, he decided to let it go. As Gimli had noted, Faramir too had suffered quite a shock. 

Aragorn encountered his wife amongst her ladies and several of his and Faramir's clerks, with whom Arwen had been organizing further education and occupational opportunities for the city's orphans. It was Faramir's project as well as Arwen's, and she immediately inquired after "our dear Steward." Aragorn pulled his Queen aside, noting as he did so that she seemed sad, this day. Her gown was midnight-dark velvet, with a smooth underskirt of gray satin. Her hair cascaded in dark curls down her back, with the locks near her face delicately braided in with strings of gray, opalescent pearls. Aragorn wondered if she was in mourning for someone. Arwen and the rest of his elven foster-family had lost many family and friends in their centuries of life. There were many mournful anniversaries which Aragorn knew not of, but his news could not wait. 

Arwen took it better than he'd expected. Her fury with the old Lord Steward Ecthelion dwarfed even Aragorn's own, and made him worry about his twin foster-brothers, when they learned of it. But Arwen quickly moved onto thoughts of Faramir, as Aragorn had expected that she would.

"Where is he?" Arwen asked, her gray eyes wide with love and concern, "I hope that you reassured him that he is loved. That we rejoice to know that he is our son, however that came to be." 

"Er...well, yes, I more-or-less said that. I might have also lost my temper and called him a fool." Aragorn admitted, with a shamefaced half-smile. 

Arwen threw up her hands in frustration, a gesture very reminiscent of Lord Glorfindel in a mood. "Honestly, Aragorn meleth. I know that you've had a terrible shock, but you're the parent, he's your son. You have to think of him first." 

Stung, Aragorn protested, "But I just...and, in any case, I stopped yelling after Gimli made me promise to be nice." 

Well, thank goodness for Gimli," Arwen murmured under her breath, reaching up to stroke her husband's cheek lovingly. Then she nearly outpaced her warrior husband back to the Steward's apartment, the Minas Tirith home of their new-found son. 

"Faramir!" Arwen called as she threw open the door, and rushed to his side. Faramir himself had paused by a table, reviewing several scrolls, but at Arwen's entry he looked up just in time to catch Arwen as she embraced him. Aragorn didn't even hear everything that she said to him, but it made the stiff line of Faramir's back finally relax. Arwen gently coaxed the Steward down onto the settee beside her, and continued to speak to him in a sweet, soft reassuring tone. She mixed Sindarin and Westron, as she frequently did when emotional, but Faramir had learned enough of the Elven language that he seemed to be able to follow. Aragorn sighed, and let them be for the moment. He was feeling envious, and a little hurt. Faramir was ARAGORN'S SON, his own flesh and blood, and yet the Steward had been flinching away from his King's affection all day. Now, Faramir had let Arwen embrace him, was letting her practically cuddle him to reassure him that he still held her love and regard. 

Arwen met her husband's eyes, her arms still around Faramir - their son. For as surely as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, what was Aragorn's was Arwen's as well. 

*Be patient, Meleth.* Arwen counseled him silently, *Faramir's years with his mother were short, but good. Not so with Lord Denethor, and you will have to try harder to prove yourself to him as father than you ever have as King and friend.*

Aragorn winced, but realized that to be true, once Arwen had said it. To distract himself from his envy and frustration, he took an absent-minded look at the scrolls Faramir had been reviewing. His eyes narrowed at the neat columns of expenses and income relating to Faramir's princedom. 'Well, that at least, I can change.' The King thought, both pleased with himself and determined. Faramir and Eowyn had heretofore politely turned down offers of royal assistance with expenses relating to Ithilien. Now Aragorn could MAKE Faramir accept his aid. An inner smile and a sense of contentment came to the King, as he realized that he at last had the power to insist that Faramir listen to him outside of the Steward's official duties. He could put an end to Faramir's unescorted trips around the city, long patrols to the north with unscheduled detours, the Steward's return to duty before he had met his FATHER'S standards for his health, Faramir's excessive dedication to his duties. There were many parts of Faramir's life, and sometimes Eowyn's, in which Aragorn had longed to have a greater say. And now he would. 

"We will deal with this together," Arwen began, after Faramir was calmer. "After all," The Queen continued, "That Aragorn shall recognize you, personally and politically, is a foregone conclusion." 

Faramir's gray eyes flickered to the King, no longer so afeared as he had been before, but still troubled. Aragorn put aside his frustration that it had taken Arwen to dispel the fear, but nonetheless sat down beside Faramir. 

"It is true." Aragorn confirmed his wife's words. "It is a settled point, and not your choice." 

"But the timing is something which we must all reach agreement on." Arwen continued, with a warning look for her husband., "The three of us, and Eowyn of course as well." 

"If you are both determined on such a course," Faramir said, looking more than a little bit overwhelmed. To Aragorn's eyes, he looked rather like a cat which had fallen into a tub of cream, not sure whether it had found salvation or death, "Then I think we should wait until after we have consulted with my uncle Imrahil, and also with Eowyn's brother Eomer-King." 

Aragorn snorted in agreement, "You are quite right, ion-nin. After all," a wry smile flickered onto Aragorn's face, "it is not the type of news which one's kin should learn from rumor, or the town crier. We will need to send word to my mother's kin, as well. You have just acquired a number of maternal cousins, who will be quite relieved to be spared a succession debate in the instance of my death." 

Faramir blanched, and Arwen gasped in concern as Aragorn pressed his Steward's head down between his knees. "Breathe, Faramir." Aragorn ordered. 

After he had caught his breath, Faramir said, "I...I cannot contemplate your death, my King. I cannot do what you do, be who you are. I am not a great enough person to rule these realms. You must have an heir who is properly your own and Queen Arwen's. You must not..." 

"What did I tell you, about telling me what I may and may not do?" Aragorn replied lightly, his irritation more than banished by the white cast to his Steward's features. "Breathe, Faramir. Of course you don't want to be King, and of course you don't think that you're up to the job. Anybody who did wouldn't be good for it." Aragorn's face softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze the back of his son's neck, "And you would be very good at it, not that I ever want the job to fall to you. But better you than anywone else, my son. Do not doubt it. And I felt the same even before I knew that you were my son."

Faramir managed an unsteady smile back, "And yet, then, you didn't have the authority to MAKE me be your heir." 

Aragorn flat-out grinned. "Ah, yes. There will be many changes." Sighing and giving Faramir a stern look, Aragorn said, "Beginning with the manner of my response to your folly of yesterday." 

Faramir nodded bravely, and had the grace to look a bit ashamed of himself. Arwen, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes at her husband. 

"Surely, whatever troubles Faramir managed to fall into after receiving this shocking, life-changing news, you can forgive him." Arwen insisted, "Anyone would be out-of-sorts, and prone to intemperate speech." 

"It wasn't so much an issue of poor attitude, intemperate speech, or even lamentable judgment regarding his refusal to inform me, his King, that I am also his father." Aragorn drawled, "It was more an issue of diving into a very shallow pool of water from a very great height." 

Arwen frowned again, "Didn't you do something similar once yourself, meleth?"

Faramir choked on a laugh as Aragorn blushed, "Well, yes, and I assure you, I paid for it at the time. But it helped me learn to think before I risked my life so casually. And I would rather not lose Faramir, when we have only just learned that he is not only our Steward but also our son." 

Arwen had to concede to the wisdom of that. She left them with another hug for Faramir, and a kiss and a dire warning not to be too hard on Faramir for Aragorn. 

Stunned, Faramir said, "She would have taken my part. She didn't even know what I had done, and yet she defended me even to you." 

"Yes." Aragorn gently agreed, "And if I have somehow offended you so greatly that you would wish for me to sleep on the sofa tonight, all you need to do is seem to still be in great pain during dinner." 

Faramir's surprise was plainly evident, so Aragorn continued, "Did you not know that you have this power over us? You had me nearly beside myself, thinking that I would have to birch you, you stubborn, infuriating child." 

Faramir shook his head, amazed, overwhelmed. 

" Power in a family goes both ways between parents and children, Faramir." Aragorn gently instructed his son, "That you did not know this makes it...more clear to me, why you feared my response. It does not excuse your failure in making Legolas and Gimli explain to me that you are my son. But it does explain it." 

Quietly, Faramir replied, "I am so sorry that I nearly made you have to punish me so." The Steward winced, and renewed guilt moved over his features, "And I must apologize to Legolas. I believe that I may have insulted his honor, in...ah." 

"Being a stubborn fool, and trying to keep me at a distance, rather than sharing with me the source of your distress. Even though I had every bit as much of a right as you to know that I am your father." Aragorn said sternly. 

Faramir nodded, shamefaced and apologetic. 

More sympathetically, Aragorn instructed, "You may apologize to Legolas at dinner. As well as thank both him and Gimli quite sincerely and humbly for fulfilling the duty you would not, and telling me that I have a fine son." 

"Yes, my King." Faramir agreed. 

"Later, I would like you to work on finding a more appropriate form of address for me, whilst we are in private. But for now, we have the matter of your earlier recklessness to discuss." 

"I am at your disposal, my King." Faramir said, as he had said earlier. 

Aragorn sighed, and gently rested a hand on his son's shoulder, prepared for the almost-inevitable flinch. "Faramir, I am intending to spank you, aye, and thoroughly, given the seriousness of what you and Legolas did. But if you cannot - or will not- let yourself accept comfort from me afterward, then I will have to think of some other way to punish you. Else it would be too akin to beating you. And I would never do that, nor let anyone else." 

"I...I can let you offer me solace afterward, my Lord." 

 

Aragorn snorted with wry amusement, "I am glad that you feel that you can. I will also have your promise that you will. I've seen you verbally tap dance around the lords of my council. Fair warning, my son. I will not have you do the same with me." 

 

Blushing, Faramir agreed, "I will, then. My word on it." 

 

"Well enough. Come here, then, my dear son and Prince. Let us have this over with."


	7. Chapter 7

[Faramir POV]

 

Faramir took a deep breath, still hesitant to take those few steps necessary to put himself into a position to be drawn over the King's - his father's - lap. And also beginning to wonder what it meant, that the King, who could already read him so well...would now be looking out for him that much more closely. And with a father's eyes, as well as a King's.

 

"Faramir." Aragorn said firmly, but not unkindly, interrupting the Steward's thoughts.

 

"Sorry, Sire!" Faramir shook his head, clearing his mind and trying to let go of some of his unease, before standing and walking those few steps to the King's side. To Faramir's surprise, rather than the King's pulling him over his lap, Aragorn stood up, too. Then he pulled Faramir into a fierce embrace. Faramir, surprised, let him.

 

"I do not want to spank you, you know." Aragorn said softly into his ear. "But I will not permit you to so recklessly risk your own life and the lives of others."

 

Thinking about the events of the past few days, about how truly foolish he had been at the bridge, and also in nearly forcing the King to impose upon him strict military discipline, Faramir's eyes teared up and he whispered hoarsely, his head on Aragorn's shoulder, "I'm sorry...so sorry."

 

Aragorn lightly pushed Faramir far enough away to meet his eyes, "I know that you are." Then Aragorn sat down again, more or less in the middle of the long green settee. In a gentle, reassuring tone, the King continued, "I know that you are unaccustomed to this exact style of punishment, ion muin nin, so let me help you." The King then took Faramir's hand in his, and gently guided the Steward to stand on one side of his knees.

 

Faramir blushed, but allowed himself to be directed. He blushed even more fiercely as the King gently tapped his hip.

 

"Just loosen your leggings." Aragorn offered, half-sympathetic, half-exasperated, "I can deal with it from there."

 

Faramir, blushing all the more, did so. Immediately afterward, Aragorn's right arm gently tipped Faramir over his knees. It was every bit as intimate as Faramir had feared, if not quite so awkward or uncomfortable, as Faramir's body was supported by the settee as well as the King's knees. Then it got worse, as Aragorn lifted Faramir's tunic and shirt tail up, and tucked them under his belt. It became worse still, as Aragorn again tapped Faramir's hip. "Lift up, a bit, ion-nin." Faramir was embarrassed, even with the King's matter-of-fact tone, but he did as asked. Aragorn gently pulled down his leggings, baring Faramir's bottom and his legs down to his knees.

At that point, Faramir heard the King take a deep, indrawn breath, and felt him stiffen. Curiously, Faramir looked up to meet Aragorn's eyes.

'Oh.' Faramir thought with an inner sigh, 'the scars. Aragorn didn't know that they go from the top of my shoulders all the way down to my knees.

"You will tell me," Aragorn commanded, his voice tight with emotion, "How exactly it was that you came by each of these lines, and who is responsible."

Bare-bottomed over his King's - and father's - lap was not a good position for negotiating. And, in any case, Aragorn did have a father's right to know. "I will tell you," Faramir promised, "But I would prefer not to do so now, and it please your majesty. I'd...I'd really like to just get this over with." Also, Faramir did not want to talk about those past traumatizing events at this time, it would upset him even more, make him fearful.

 

"Calm down, Faramir ion nin." Aragorn commanded soothingly, as he readjusted Faramir's position so that the Steward's bottom was better presented over his knees. "Later is fine. For now, try to relax as much as you can." Aragorn patted Faramir's bare bottom reassuringly with his right hand, while his left gently rested on Faramir's lower back. "The spanking will hurt less if you relax."

Faramir did his best, and it helped that Aragorn's first swats, while stinging, were far from full strength. Once Faramir felt a uniform sting and heat all over his bottom, Aragorn began to focus on his sit-spots. Firm, sincere, stinging swats to those sensitive areas had Faramir gasping, and holding on to the settee cushion to keep from flinching away from his position over Aragorn's lap. Faramir had taken much worse punishments without regretting what he'd done or crying openly, but feeling safe and truly sorry for his poor decisions, he began to hiccough and then silently sob. The firm swats landing on his very sore bottom only increased his tears. Faramir felt as if his mental anguish of the past week was being drawn out of him and taken away, even as the pain in his rear increased.

Faramir thought that the King must have noticed his crying, despite him trying to keep it quiet, as Aragorn began to stroke Faramir's back soothingly with his left hand. The King's right hand continued to smack Faramir's bottom firmly, and the burning had increased enough for Faramir to gasp and yelp at each swat. He didn't think that he could take much more, and in fact did inadvertently end up almost rolling off of the King's lap. Save that Aragorn stopped him, holding Faramir still with his left arm around Faramir's waist, and tipping Faramir further forward.

"I do not fault you for reacting, Faramir. I know that it hurts." Aragorn assured Faramir, "And I am almost done." With that, the King began a series of even further spanks to Faramir's entire backside, but focusing his effort on the undercurve of Faramir's bottom. In between kicking his legs and gasping incoherently, Faramir worried that sitting would be extremely uncomfortable for quite a while.

 

Before Faramir realized it, Aragorn's right hand had ceased spanking his backside, and was now patting his good shoulder gently, while the King's left hand stroked his back. "There, 'tis over, my son. You bore your punishment well. All is forgiven."

Despite those kind reassurances, or perhaps because of them, Faramir could not stop crying. He kept his sobs as quiet as possible, but Aragorn could unquestionably tell. The King carefully hauled Faramir up to sit against the King's shoulder, half in Aragorn's lap and half on the settee, with none of Faramir's weight pressing down upon his throbbing bottom. Faramir found himself held in a careful, loving embrace, his head resting on Aragorn's shoulder. It was odd and terrifying and wonderful, to be held thusly by a father who professed to love him, who seemed in fact to love Faramir. But after a few moments, Faramir tried to pull away, "I apologize for my unseemly display." Sniffling as quietly and self-containedly as he could, Faramir sat up, intending to stand. But as soon as he put weight on his bottom, he winced, and Aragorn's arm reached out to pull Faramir back down against him.

"There is nothing unseemly about a father comforting his son." The King gently lectured. "You are where you belong. Let me hold you a while yet, that you may know you are forgiven and loved, and that I may know that you are comforted, and know that you are loved."

At that, Faramir's tears began again, and he rested his head against the King's tunic, before pulling away, "But...but I will ruin your fine tunic."

Aragorn laughed lightly. "I would count it a favor if you did. This tunic was a gift from Elladan, and we're rather afraid that he's colorblind.

 

Faramir managed a weak, watery chuckle of his own. The tunic was an unfortunate shade between gray and green which somehow managed not to flatter even the handsome King over-much.

The last Faramir remembered was being held lovingly in Aragorn's arms. Then he awoke in his bed, lying comfortably on his stomach. The King sat beside him, also asleep, although Aragorn quickly awoke to aid Faramir in dressing for dinner.

[Arwen POV]

Arwen entered the long gallery for dinner a bit late, having taken the time to change into a more festive gown of dark blue and silver. Her baby cousin was already there, and Arwen threw herself into his arms, knowing that Legolas would catch her. "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, cousin. I can never repay you for the value of the gift you gave us, in telling us that we have a son in Faramir."

 

Legolas hugged Arwen back, and murmured something self-deprecating. Arwen reached up to hold his cheek gently, and reiterated, "We can never repay you. Thank you." Then she turned to Gimli, and knelt down to press a gentle kiss to his bearded cheek. "And you, too, Gimli." The Queen added. "Thank you, in particular for helping my hot-headed husband not to bungle the matter badly."

 

 

Gimli and Legolas exchanged a look, before both assuring Arwen that it had not been a great matter, and that they were happy for her.

 

"I am glad for Faramir, and for you and Aragorn." Legolas said earnestly, "But I cannot believe that it happened at all. Do humans not value all children, or for that matter, their marriage bonds?"

 

Arwen shook her head, "It was a terrible thing. And I am furious, on Aragorn's behalf. But none of those who wronged him yet live. And thanks to you, we know now that we have a son whom already we have grown to love. And an heir presumptive, which is a great relief to us both, and will be to Gondor as well." Arwen paused pensively, "But I am worried about how Aragorn and Faramir will readjust to their new roles. Aragorn, as I believe you know," Arwen exchanged a long-suffering look with Legolas, "Can be more than a bit overprotective. Even bossy. And Faramir is unaccustomed to having a father who attempts to guide him out of love, rather than expediency." Arwen thought specifically of Faramir's defying Denethor's order to detain the ringbearers, and how obedience in that instance could have caused them to lose everything. And she thought of Faramir's polite refusal to take anyone with him when he went to tender his personal apologies to the familes of each of those rangers who had fallen on the Pelennor, and how Aragorn would have prevented that if he could have. Faramir's refusal to abide by the King's request that he not confront such emotionally charged situations alone could have cost Faramir injury, or worse.

Aloud, Arwen asked, giving Legolas and Gimli both a very fond look, "As we are fortunate enough to have your company for the next few months, I would like to ask that you help my stubborn husband and son to learn how to be father and son, without driving one another - and the rest of us- completely mad."

"You don't even have to ask, Arwen." Legolas replied, and Arwen hugged him again.

When Aragorn and Faramir entered, it was clear that though the Steward walked a bit stiffly, he was much more relaxed. Aragorn's arm was over Faramir's shoulder, and Faramir seemed happy, if still a bit unsure. Arwen caught her husband's eyes and thought, *well done, meleth.* Aragorn nodded back to her, solemn joy in his eyes.

Faramir sought out Legolas, and Arwen overheard a bit of their conversation.

 

"I owe you a great apology." Faramir said softly to Arwen's youngest elven cousin, "I was afraid to allow my friend punish me as if he was my father. I was afraid because I feared that he would not want me to be his son. I masked that fear with talk of honor and respect for procedure, which was ill-done of me. In truth, I think it no dishonor to accept a spanking in lieu of a formal punishment. I have done the same for my own young rangers, and I would not have offered them a choice." Faramir's lips quirked into a rueful half-smile, "Although none of them have ever been so foolish as to tell their commander that a more harsh punishment was required."

"I accept your apology, Faramir, for I know that you were not thinking rationally. But please remember that, although I am not counted of age amongst my people, I am not a child, Faramir. Nor even a teenager in the sense that you are accustomed to. I have centuries more military experience than you - or your father, and to think that you could have stopped me from doing something when I set my mind to it is...well, its rather funny, to tell the truth.

Faramir blinked in surprise, then flushed as he realized how his earlier words must have offended his elven friend. "I must apologize for that, too, then. I am afraid that I have the tendency to attempt to protect even those much older and more capable than myself. Aye, and to lecture them too." Ducking his head in embarrassed amusement, Faramir confessed, "Boromir and my cousin Elphir once threw me into the ocean after a debriefing with our uncle. Boromir said that I was entirely too young to be so pompous.'

A mischievous smile lit up Legolas' fair face, and he replied, "Elrohir once tossed me into a fountain at Imladris. I had just told him what he was doing wrong with his left arm when he pulled back his bow string." Legolas' smile widened, "And I was right, too, although it took him the better part of thirty years to admit it."

Faramir smiled back, greatly reassured to have his friend's forgiveness. "Please let me make up for my poor conduct and ill-considered words," Faramir asked, "Perhaps by showing you more of Minas Tirith? I grew up here, and know the area quite well."

 

XXXX  
Legolas stood by the floor length windows of the room used by the king for family meals. Arwen sat nearby in conversation with Gimli, the late afternoon sun flooded the room as the three of them exchanged idle chatter; they were all awaiting the arrival of Aragorn and Faramir and while saying nothing to each other they were all concerned over how the encounter between new father and son had gone.

While he hoped it had gone as well as such ‘discussions’ could there was no guarantee that Aragorn and Faramir had managed to come to terms one with the other. They were Legolas admitted now that the relationship had been discovered very much alike, determined, tenacious, and resolute and as Gimli had pointed out as ‘bloody minded’ a pair as he had ever had the misfortune to meet.

Now, Legolas had withdrawn from the friendly wrangling of dwarf and elleth and gone to stare out at the gardens below but while his eyes watched the trees moving gently in the breeze his mind was elsewhere.

Wondering how he would react when Faramir and Aragorn finally appeared, Gimli had told him that Faramir was almost bound to make him an apology and he was still trying to decide how he would feel when it happened.

There were those who would say he should not forgive Faramir too easily, but frankly he did not care for their opinions. Legolas decided. Had they spent their childhood and youth trying to prove to the man who was named their father that they were if not equal to their elder brother’s worth in his eyes that they were at least worthy of the steward of Gondor’s notice, he rather thought not it was certainly the case as far as he was concerned.  
He had never been in the situation that Faramir was now, he had always known and relied upon the love of his father; Thranduil Oropherion king of the Great Greenwood and now he had the support of a second Adar Gimli son of Gloin.

How had Faramir survived so long? How had he managed when those who should have been his greatest supporters worked against him?

Legolas frowned he did not mean his brother, for he know that Boromir loved his ‘little fox’, and from what he had seen his uncle Imrahil also cared greatly for the ‘adequate jewel’, for such was the name by which Faramir was known by the man who was deemed to be his sire.

But all that had now been turned upon its head, Faramir’s real father was revealed, as Thorongil, known to Legolas and the elves as Aragorn son of Arathorn, was that a bad thing, Legolas did not believe it to be so. Aragorn, despite the circumstances that led to this parentage would never deny or reject a child even one who was born through an illicit and illegal union. He may regret what had been done to ensure the future of the stewardship, and decry the methods used, indeed Legolas knew Estel would feel them to be beyond acceptance, as would any honourable being but he would never use his disapprobation for the method used against the innocent victim of such an encounter. Aragorn was a better man than that and he had been taught well by his foster father Elrond of Imladris.

He had also had the excellent example of Arwen daughter of Elrond and Celebrian to draw upon. Arwen had apparently seen beyond the sordid machinations of mortal kind and immediately embraced the child who was the innocent pawn in the game of thrones that was Gondor when Thorongil had offered his services to steward Ecthelion.

So, did Legolas have the right to make a fuss over what had occurred no he did not. Did he have the right to criticise Faramir’s point of view over the matter and how he had reacted in trying to keep the news from Aragorn no he did not. Was it acceptable for him to poker up and refuse to accept Faramir’s apologies for what he had already said were words spoken in haste and with no intent to hurt. It would be a poor response given his own proclivity for speaking first and thinking second.

What he could do was be happy that Faramir had now been acknowledged as the rightful son of Aragorn son of Arathorn and that Gondor now had an heir to its new kingship, one who would put her needs far beyond his own, who could ask for more certainly not him.

So, when Faramir, son of Aragorn asked for forgiveness Legolas could do no more than to give it and hope that their future relationship has not been forever tainted by what had gone before he decided.

He liked Faramir, he reminded the elf of Boromir, but he was like and yet unalike and he wanted very much to come to know this complicated mortal better and he felt deep down that they were very much alike.

“Legolas” the prince looked back into the room as Arwen called his name.  
He looked up as the door to the hall opened and Aragorn and Faramir entered the chamber together. He was relieved to see that Aragorn had an arm about his son’s shoulders offering support and while Faramir looked discomfited, which given the strength of the king’s hand was not to be wondered at, he also seemed more at ease than he had since the news had been broken about his changed status.

Aragorn went over to where his wife was seated leaving Faramir to approach Legolas alone.

“I owe you a great apology” the steward began and Legolas rather than interrupt allowed Faramir to say what he felt he had to before responding.

Legolas did his best to explain to the man what had been most annoying without adding to Faramir’s already considerable distress and even managed to make him smile when he told him about his own encounter with Elrohir. As the atmosphere eased a little Legolas was happy to accept Faramir’s offer to show him some of Minas Tirith that he may not have had an opportunity to explore.

“I would enjoy that,” he answered thinking it would be an opportunity to prove to Faramir that he was indeed as mature as he had been telling him but the stewards next words threw that into doubt, “perhaps Lord Gimli might like to accompany us.”

Legolas winced, he could just imagine how that would go, his guardian would keep him on leading strings most likely, given his recent lapse into ‘idiocy’ and that would do nothing to prove to Faramir that he was indeed as much an adult as the man was.

Sending a sideways glance toward Gimli to ensure he was occupied with Aragorn and Arwen he ventured. “That is kind and I know Gimli would accept your invitation but …” he hesitated because telling untruths did not come naturally to him but decided the case was desperate and so continued, “I know that he is going to be busy finalising the plans for the Great Gates. I would not want to drag him away from that just to follow us about because he felt obligated to do so; he really is not a great one for sightseeing.”

Faramir looked a little nonplussed by this and Legolas seeing that he was looking a little concerned added somewhat mendaciously that perhaps they should not mention their trip to Aragorn either as the king might try and put a stop to Faramir’s plans if he heard about them given their new relationship. This suggestion made the young steward blanch and agree that their visit to the lesser known byways of Minas Tirith might indeed go better if it were undertaken without anyone else being any the wiser.

After all they both agreed as they joined the others for dinner there was no chance that they would find trouble again so soon, they had, had more than their fair share of that already.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it, check out our group at:  
> http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/  
> New members are welcome!


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